


Tell Me You Love Me

by WiccanWinchester



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blood, Bucky just wants to help, F/M, Fluff, Love, Murder, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, Smut, Survivors Guilt, Terrible Coping Mechanisms, Violence, eventual smut probably tbh, ill add as I write stuff, my idea is for this to be the slowest burn, super slow burn, the smut has started, told you it would, traumatized reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-07-29 07:38:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16259663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WiccanWinchester/pseuds/WiccanWinchester
Summary: You don't want to remember, but your dreams won't let you forget.Bucky saved you from the worst event of your life, and you will always be thankful to him, but that doesn't mean you can just forget what happened. It doesn't mean that you can simply relate to him and forgive his past. It doesn't mean that you can just forgive yourself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another night; Another nightmare.

               _You knew that the lights in the living room needed to be replaced. Out of the three bulbs dangling from the living room fan, only one was still working. You had known that for a week.Your mother had been asking you to buy new bulbs and replace them for a full **week**. And you hadn’t. You had shrugged it off and said you’d do it the next day, every day.  You thought you had time. Dumbass, innocent kids always think that they have time._

_But you weren’t a kid._

_You were a twenty-four-year-old adult who refused to move out and move on with her life. And that is honestly the only reason any of this was happing._

_“Please, just let them go,” You begged, staring at the sagging forms of your parent strewn out on your living room couch. How had he managed to knock both of them out? How long had he been planning this to make sure that nothing went wrong? How had he gotten Serena tied to that chair without having to bash her skull in?_

_“Tell me,” he insisted. His cheeks were tear-stained. No matter where you looked, someone was in pain because of you. Because of your choices. Because of who you were._

_“Simon, please,” you pleaded, even though you knew that it would do nothing._

_You’d never held a gun before. You had never felt the cold flesh of a murderous weapon clenched desperately between your trembling hands. But there you were, holding one in your hands that he had pulled out of the waistband of his jeans, and insisted you take or he’d have to kill everyone. He needed to know you were with him. Needed to feel like you were in this together. It should have just made your stomach turn, but it also made your heart ache._

_“Tell me you love me,” he said, fresh tears falling down his face as his own hands, also shaking, shifted the gun that they held in them towards your fathers head, lolled unconsciously against the back of the couch._

_“I love you!” You cried out too quickly. Desperate._

_“Like you mean it,” he demanded and you honestly wanted to say it back. You wanted to assure him that he wasn’t alone, even after every thing he had done._

_“I love you,” you managed to squeak out._

_“Then kill her. Kill her,” he said and then shook his gun in the direction of your parents. “And they live.”  
               Your eyes fell shut. It felt like they fell shut for so long. The voices that sounded in your ears after that seemed muffled and indistinguishable. You squeezed the tigger._

_You squeezed the trigger, a loud **boom** sounded, and then your sister was dead._

               You sat up abruptly in bed, doing everything that you could to force air into your lungs even though it felt like air would rather be anywhere else. You clutched your blanket tightly in your palms as your eyes darted around the room, desperately searching for Simon to see what his next move would be. But he wasn’t there. Nothing was there. Just the shadowed corners of your room that your night-light couldn’t reach.

               Twenty-five years old and you couldn’t sleep without a night-light.

               Fucking pathetic.

               You threw your legs over the edge of your bed and stood up, hand out in front of you finding your way to the switch on your wall and flicking it on. You tried to take a breath— to breathe deep and calm yourself down, but you couldn’t. So, still trying to force air into your lungs, you followed the trail of light switches out to your hallway, out to your living room, and then out into the hallway of the Avengers Tower. You weren’t going to sleep. There was no way.

               Slowly and quietly you made your way to the elevator, taking it down to the main room and stepping out into the common room. This is where everyone came together. This is where people talked carelessly about every day events. This is where Natasha told you Bruce finally agreed to go on a date with her. This is where Tony and Pepper announced their engagement. This is where you went most of your days, listening to superhumans talk about the most un-super aspects of their life, and that made you feel okay.

               You made your way into the common room, plopping down on one of the long couches that took up half of the room and faced the television, right beside where the remote had been left. You turned on the television—on to some reality TV show that you didn’t care about. It was noise. It was something for your subconscious to focus on so that the main center of you brain didn’t have to dwell on the nightmare that you had just had.

               Maybe a minute had passed.

               Maybe ten.

               Maybe a whole hour.

               But eventually someone placed their hand heavily on the back of the couch behind you, and leaned forward, looking at the television.

               “This is fake,” the voice said.

               “I know,” your responded, your voice just as small as it had been for the past six months but still somehow sounding smaller than you had ever heard it.

               You looked behind you as the owner of the voice pulled away and headed through the common room, towards the kitchen. The moment the man turned to look back, you snapped your gaze back towards the television.

               That was him.

               That was the man who suddenly would come rushing in the moment you let your nightmare end. The man who had brought you to the Avengers tower and given you the life that you had now.

               The man who had stopped Simon.

               And you couldn’t decide how you felt about him and his stupid man-bun.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A typical Avengers Pity Breakfast does not go as smoothly as normal, thanks to the unusual appearance of one Bucky Barnes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure where this is going, but I hope you’ll all stick with me! Feedback is always appreciated :)
> 
> Also the formatting might be weird. I typed it on Word on my phone and it took away my indentations and stuff when I copy and pasted it
> 
> ***When I originally posted the first chapter I wrote that Bucky had killed Simon. Well, I changed my mind. The details in this chapter are accurate, and chapter 1 has been edited. Happy reading!***

You don’t remember falling asleep, you simply remember waking up with a knitted blanket tossed over you and a commotion coming from the kitchen. With a yawn, you stretched your arms upwards and tilted your head backwards, eyes lingering across the rows and rows of fluorescent bulbs tucked behind rectangular screens— like you’d see in a classroom, or a grocery store. The tower wasn’t the kind of place you’d find a ceiling fan. It wasn’t the kind of place you’d call home.

  
As if on cue, as you stared upwards, one of the bulbs began to flicker before going out with an almost inaudible “pop!”. Your eyebrows knit together as an uncomfortable tightness gripping your chest.

  
“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” You called to the building’s AI assistant.

  
“Yes, Miss. (YLN)?” F.R.I.D.A.Y. responded immediately in that soft, accented voice of hers.

  
“There’s a light out in the common room,” you informed her.

  
“I am aware, and have already made a note to have it replaced.”

  
A wave of embarrassment washed over you, because even though you knew F.R.I.D.A.Y. was just a computer program, she still felt real enough to judge you for not assuming something so obvious. Of course she knew that there was a light bulb out. She was literally part of the building.

  
Fucking idiot.

“You gonna come eat somethin’, Kid? Vis and Wanda made a whole spread,” Sam’s voice carried to you from the doorway into the kitchen.

  
Turning to look at him, posed against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his lips, you couldn’t help but smile softly. He knew you hated it when he called you that, so he made a point to always call you it.

“I’m twenty-five, Sam, not a kid,” you responded, just like you always did.

  
“I’ll stop calling you ‘Kid’ when I stop having to tuck you in every night,” he nodded towards the knitted blanket still spread out on your lap. This was far from the first time you had fallen asleep on the couch.  

  
“Touché,” You replied, tossing the blanket off of you and standing to follow Sam into the kitchen.

  
Unlike the common room, the kitchen had windows, making it twenty times brighter. The windows spanned from floor to ceiling and took up and entire wall, along which stood a long table that could seat every tenant of the tower, plus you. Steve, Clint, and Natasha sat at the table, laughing and talking over steaming mugs of coffee. Vision was just finishing cutting up strawberries for a fruit salad and Wanda used her powers to slide a platter of bacon out of Tony’s reach as he tried to grab a piece, all the while never looking up from where she was scrambling the last of the eggs.  
When you first cane to the tower, the Avengers rarely used the kitchen, and had told you so. But somewhere in the sixth months since you had come to live there they had made it a habit to come together for breakfast any day when there wasn’t a mission to be on, or something more important to attend to.

They did it for you, that much was obvious. They came together like a family in the mornings to try and ease the gaping wound where yours had been ripped away from you. These heroes who held the weight of the world on their shoulders every day consciously took time to try and ease the emotional wounds that you were fully responsible for inflicting on yourself. It was sheer, unadulterated pity, and it made you sick.

  
But some piece of you that you’d never acknowledge liked it, and so you settled yourself into a chair, and smiled as everyone who wasn’t yet seated came over to join you, Wanda levitating all the food over to the table on a mist of red. There was a moment of hesitation, after all the plates had been handed out and glasses of orange juice poured. There was a silent question hanging in the air: Do we wait for Bucky?

  
Just like every other morning, after a few moments Tony answered the question for everyone by reaching for the platter of bacon and beginning to fill his plate. Everyone else followed suit right away, except for Steve who stood up and crossed to one of the cupboards, pulling out an extra plate so he could load it up with food for his best friend to set aside before everything was gone. Unlike every other morning, the casual conversation halted momentarily, just as Steve had finished placing a scoop of home fries on the plate. Looking up from your own small serving of eggs, bacon, fruit, and potatoes you saw that Bucky had entered the room. Your head immediately snapped towards your glass of orange juice and you picked it up to take a sip, trying to ignore the flutter of panic that shot through your stomach when you realized that the only remaining free seat at the table was directly to the right of you.

  
“Hey Buck, how’d you sleep?” Steve asked as he handed him his food— the ceramic dish making a small clinking noise as it connected to his metal hand…the same hand that he had wrapped around Simon’s throat.

  
Your own throat suddenly forgot how to function properly and you found yourself choking on your drink. Your shaking hand set down your glass harder than you had intended, coming down on the end of your fork and sending it flipping into the air, splaying scrambled eggs across the table and sending the fork clattering to the floor.

  
“Sorry!” You said immediate, “I’m sorry.”

  
You picked up your napkin and began to collect the scattered eggs with it before hurrying over to the garbage can beside the refrigerator. You turned to head back to the table, seeing everyone at the table staring in your direction except for Tony, who looked almost amused as he continued to shovel food into his mouth, and, Bucky who had set down his own plate beside yours, picked up your fork from the floor, and was on his way to place it in the sink. Your cheeks burned as you hurried back to the table asking, “So, what’s everyone’s plan for the day?” in order to shift focus from the painfully awkward tension in the air.

  
“We’ve got a briefing after breakfast,” Tony replied immediately. “Then some of the team has to head out.”

  
You nodded your head, not looking for any further information. You weren’t part of the team, you were just their charity case, you didn’t have clearance to know exactly what they got up to.

  
“How about you? You have to work today?” Natasha asked and you nodded once again.

  
“Ten o’clock,” you said and went to return to eating, only to realize you hadn’t gotten a new fork. That’s right when Bucky sat down and placed a fork right underneath where your hand was hovering. He was careful not to touch you. He knew that you didn’t like it.

  
“Hm,” Natasha hummed her acknowledgment as she took a sip of coffee and then lowered the mug. “Barnes and Bruce are hanging behind today, maybe one of them could walk you?”

  
“I can—“ Bruce began, only to be silenced by what sounded like it couldn’t have been anything other than Natasha kicking him beneath the table. He cleared his throat, composing himself. “I can’t. Got some…things to do in the lab.”

  
“I can walk myself, I’ll be okay,” you said, your voice hardly more than a whisper. Natasha usually walked you to the small coffee shop that you worked at, and when she couldn’t one of the guys would fill in for her. But not Bucky. Never Bucky.

  
“It ain’t a problem,” Bucky spoke without looking at you, focusing on snapping a piece of bacon in half. “I can walk you.”

  
“I’m fine, I can walk myself,” you insisted, your voice growing stonier with every word.

  
“It’s no big deal. I can just—“

  
Without thinking about it, you slammed your fork down onto the table. “I said I’m fine!” Everyone looked on in uncomfortable shock. Even Tony took a break from eating to raise an eyebrow at you. You took a deep breath and pushed away from the table. “The only threat to me is in a prison cell, newly healed from a broken neck. You’ve done your part, thank you. I can walk myself.”

  
With that, you stood from the table, not bothering to take care of your plate as you fled from the room. Your heart was racing and if you had stopped for a moment to actually assess your feelings, you might have realized you had no reason to be taking your frustrations out on the man who had saved you.

  
The gun Simon had forced you to use on your sister clattered to the ground the second after you had pulled the trigger, your eyes still closed as two more shots rang out and a strangled cry left your throat. You hadn’t needed to open your eyes to know that your boyfriend had just shot your parents. Gun tucked under his jacket and jabbing into your side he had forced you outside into the night, walking briskly down the street to a park that you had crossed a million times with before when sneaking from your house to his apartment after telling your parents you were going to meet up with friends. A certain super soldier just happened to be taking a midnight run through that park. Bucky has picked up on the fact that something was wrong and saved you from a kidnapping, breaking Simon’s neck in the process.

  
Your stomach churned at the memories and if you had managed to eat more than a few bites of breakfast you very well might have thrown up.

  
What happened to you was not Bucky’s fault, and you knew that. But he was a daily reminder of the lives you had inadvertently ended by choosing to love Simon. You chose to overlook his obvious psychological disorders and tell yourself that you could fix him— that, as he told you, having you around made him better. You chose to ignore the fact that you were an obsession to him, and even though he’d promised to never hurt you, he had never promised he wouldn’t hurt anyone else. You willingly told him that your sister had ratted you out to your parents about still seeing him and that they were forcing you to cut off contact. It was all you.

  
You thought you were loved by a man with demons, and it turned out it was the demons who loved you all along. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You decide it’s time to make some changes.

It wasn’t until you reached the elevator doors and pressed the button to call it that you realized you were being followed. You spun around, ready to tell Bucky off but froze when you saw that it was actually Tony who was behind you. Your cheeks flushed and you turned back around to face the elevator once more. The two of you waited in silence until the metal doors slid open, and you felt the elevator shift slightly as Tony stepped into it behind you. It wasn’t until you had both settled into opposite corners and the doors had closed that he finally spoke.

  
“Well, that was quite the performance.”

  
“Sorry,” you muttered without looking away from the screen above the door that was counting the floor numbers for you.

  
“Oh no, don’t be sorry. Not to me. I always like a good show with my meals. I am curious though,” he finally turned to face you. “What’s with this tin-man-phobia of yours.”

  
“I’m not afraid of him,” you replied sullenly, sparing Tony a quick sideways glance.

  
“Definitely could have fooled me. Every time the guy walks into the room you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  
You scoffed, mumbling under your breath, “More like three ghosts.”

  
Tony rolled his eyes. “Ah, the whole woe-is-me-my-family-is-dead schtick. Usually around here people swear vengeance and put on a pair of tights and a cape to deal with that sort of stuff. ”

  
“Nobody here wears tights or a cape.”

  
“Thor?”

  
“Doesn’t live here; Doesn’t count.” You sighed, rolling your eyes, which Tony took as his cue to keep talking.

“My point is, we’ve all been there. But you can’t take all that negative stuff you’ve got inside you and push it on Barnes just because he happened to be there. Trust me, I know. You’ve gotta figure out whose fault it really is and focus on ruthlessly taking revenge. Or, ya know, healing and coping and stuff. I hear that works too.” He shoots you a lazy grin, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

  
As hard as you try to force a smile back, you can’t. The corners of your moth wobble unsurely and tears start to build up in your eyes as you look at Tony. Just then the elevator doors open to the floor that your apartment is on and you hurry out into the hallway. You only make it a few steps before Tony is grabbing you by the wrist, seamlessly pulling you to him and wrapping his arms around you.

  
“Come on, now,” you could tell by the stiffness in his body and voice that he wasn’t completely comfortable with this. Once again, an Avenger showered you in pity.

  
“How am I supposed to take revenge on myself?” You asked so quietly you weren’t sure if Tony would even be able to hear you.

  
He let you go abruptly then, pulling back to look at you.

  
“Why would you take revenge on yourself? You didn’t do—“

  
You couldn’t stand to hear him say that it wasn’t your fault. Not when you knew that was a lie. So you turned away, hurrying down the rest of the hall to where your apartment laid at the end.

  
“And least ease up on Barnes?” Tony called down the hall as your door shut tight behind you. “Maybe?”

  
You blinked furiously, willing the tears from your eyes before they could begin to fall then heading to your bedroom to gather your work clothes. You took your uniform into your bathroom, setting it, along with a bra and pair of panties, on the counter before stripping down and starting the shower. You stepped in and tried to let the warm water melt away your tension. 

  
Tony may not know how you’re feeling in detail, but he did have a point. You weren’t the only one with issues in the compound. In fact, compared to everyone else there your problems were minuscule, and yet somehow you still weren’t coping as well as them. Everyone else took their dark pasts and put them towards good. Meanwhile, you were living rent free with a group of superheroes and hadn’t even so much as thanked the one who had rescued you.  
It was all just a testament to what an absolute wreck of a human being you were. Nobody’s life was sunshine and daisies, and unlike everyone else living with you, you just so happened to be the direct cause of your own misery. You needed to get your shit together. No more outbursts like that morning. No more moping around like an abandoned puppy. You were going to slap on a happy face and make your way through the day like a normal human being. You were going to force yourself to cope, even if it killed you.

  
Oh god, a part of you really wished it would just kill you. But you pushed that thought aside. That’s not how people who were coping thought. That’s how miserable children who couldn’t own up to their own actions acted.

  
You would let Bucky walk you to work, and after your shift you would go out in search of a second job. You would make enough money to get an apartment away from the Avengers and finally be the adult you should have been before your family was killed. The adult that could have stopped it all from happening.

  
When you were finished washing yourself, you wrapped your hair in a towel, dried off, and then slipped into your uniform before walking with purpose and determination to your bedroom.

Refusing to hesitate, as to not give yourself time to second guess yourself, you walked to where your night light was plugged into the socket in the wall and yanked it out before tossing it onto the ground and stomping on it. Once. Twice. Three times. Four. You stopped counting and just kept stomping until it was a pile of glass and plastic shards mashed into your bedroom carpet. You didn’t need a night light. Normal, functioning people did not need nightlights.

  
You would be normal.

  
You would function.

*** 

“Still want to walk me to work?” You asked immediately as a way of greeting to Bucky as you walked into the common room where he was seated on one of the couches, exactly where you had fallen asleep the night before.

  
His head jerked your way and he raised an eyebrow.

  
“You talkin’ to me?” He asked, clearly confused.

  
“Yeah, I’m talking to you.”

  
Bucky breathed out a chuckle but there was no amusement behind it. “Sorry, but for some reason I was under the impression you’d rather chew glass than have me tag along with you.”

  
“Well that was like an hour ago. Things change.”

  
You rounded the couch and sat down to the left of him— close enough that you were obviously making an effort but far enough that there was no chance of accidentally touching him, especially that metal arm of his— The strong one that whirred when he moved it. The one that he’d weaponized in a moment of rage. The one that had grabby Simon by the throat and—

  
A sudden, loud exhale escaped you and drew you back to the current moment, making you realize that you’d been staring at that metal arm of his, and that Bucky looked extremely uncomfortable. Quickly you shook your head.

  
“Please, I’d like you to walk with me,” you said, raising your eyes to Bucky’s own, only to be met with a hard, icy blue stare.

  
He looked away suddenly, over to the TV where an on-demand episode of The Bachelorette was playing. If you weren’t so desperate to step up and start acting how you were supposed to, you might have taken the time to be shocked by his programming choice.

  
“Okay,” he finally said without looking at you again.  “When do you have to be there?”

  
“Ten-thirty.”

  
“Good. We can leave after this episode.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gives you his jacket, and you find out you don’t hate the smell of it.
> 
> Also, you need deeper pants pockets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, there was some wonky stuff with this story and I fixed it. Chapter two was posted twice for some reason, so the duplicate is gone. And the first chapter said Bucky had killed Simon, but I decided I didn’t want him dead, so that’s fixed. 
> 
> I should probably stop writing new chapters when I’m drunk. Idk. But I hope you enjoy everything anyway and will bear with me. <3

It was a crisp, fall day when you stepped outside the tower which is why you shivered and only gave Bucky a sideways glance when he offered you that old leather jacket that he always wore. You knew why he wore it— along with that black glove of his you knew that he used it to hide his unnatural appendage. But nice, normal girls would accept a jacket, so you did too.

 

“You don’t have to take it,” he pointed out, sensing your hesitation.

 

“If you don’t…need it…” you replied and instantly regretted opening your mouth because in your ears, your tone screamed that you didn’t want to take the jacket.

 

Bucky didn’t say anything though. He kept silent as you shrugged the jacket on and did your best to keep pace with his wide steps. The moment you realized that his scent was clinging to the fabric your stomach gave a panicked lurch. This was going to be awful— walking with him and unable to zone out because all you could smell was him. But after a minute you suddenly found yourself not minding it. Hell, you almost liked the scent of soap, and something like cinnamon mixed with vanilla. You found yourself inhaling deeper than usual just to take in more of it. You hardly noticed that his steps eventually slowed, like Bucky thought you were just out of breath from the half-jog it took for you to be able to keep up with him. You didn’t say anything, just tried to keep your breaths as silent as you could to someone with super hearing.

 

It was three blocks later when a hand suddenly reached out and grabbed onto your arm and it suddenly felt like the world was crumbling. A stranger passing on the street had suddenly reached out and grabbed you and it felt like all of the air had been knocked out of you. Were they attacking you? Were they ignoring the hulking mass of super soldier that was strolling beside you and deciding they were going to try and take you like Simon had? Were you about to see another human being killed over you?

 

“You dropped your phone,” the man who had grabbed you said, releasing your arm to point to where your cell phone had fallen out of your back pocket onto the ground.

 

“Oh! Th- thank you!” You managed to say, releasing a breath that you hadn’t realized you were holding.

 

Your brain was about ten steps behind what was happening in the real world and the stranger’s kind smile was slowly fading as you stood there and stared at him. Bucky sprang into action, backtracking two steps to pick up your phone and extending it towards you.

 

“You okay?” The man asked, his eyes moving from you to Bucky’s grim face.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, just tired and out of it, you know?” You forced a smile onto your lips. “Thank you, a ton.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” the stranger replied, a smile returning to his face. “Always happy to help a pretty lady.”

 

You blushed. Was he hitting on you? When was the last time that had happened? Definitely not since you’d gone to live at The Tower. Definitely not since you’d been with Simon and knew that a guy flirting with you would undoubtedly result in Simon destroying his bedroom in a rage. How were you supposed to react? How did normal people do this? You were, after all, trying to be normal now. This was part of it, right?

 

“You’re sweet. I’m not— thank you.” Normal girls didn’t divulge all of their physical insecurities moments of within having met someone.

 

“Really, no problem. And uh, you are, by the way.”

 

“Huh?” His boldness took you off guard.

 

“A pretty lady. You are one,” the man clarified before his hand dove into the pocket of the slacks he was wearing and pulled out his wallet. He fished out a business card and handed it to you. You took the card like you had never seen a rectangular piece of stock paper in your life. “Call me? Like, if the drop cracked your phone’s screen or something? I work in electronic repairs.” His eyes flickered once again over to Bucky. “Unless your boyfriend—“

 

“He’s not my boyfriend.” The words came out of your mouth quicker than you had me at for them to.

 

The man’a smile broadened. “Cool, um, I mean, okay. But yeah, call if your phone ever gets messed up. I’m always looking for new clients.”

 

You nodded your head, trying to keep the blush from spreading across your cheeks. “Will do.”

 

With that, the man was gone and you suddenly realized that Bucky was still holding your phone out towards you. You took it and tucked it back into the back pocket of your pants, making sure it was secure before beginning to walk again. Bucky said nothing, just kept pace with you. That is until the coffee shop that you worked at came into view.

 

“Look,” he finally broke the silence. “I’m not looking to be your best friend. I’m just asking that maybe we can be civil with each other. I don’t have a problem with you.”

 

“I know you don’t,” you responded, unable to make eye contact with him. “I don’t have a problem with you either.” That may have been a lie. There was a good chance that that was a lie. But normal girls weren’t terrified of people for no reason, and so you wouldn’t be either.

 

“Good. So…we’re okay? I can walk you to work without you freaking out?”

 

“Yeah, we’re good.”

 

“Okay, cool. And uh…you should call that guy.” His cheeks were turning more red than they had previously been, too quickly for it to just be from the cold. “He seemed nice.” 

 

“Maybe I will,” you agreed.

 

With that Bucky turned around and started back the way the two of you had come. You stepped inside your job, taking off the jacket as you rounded the counter and headed into the back room. Even after you had hung it up on one of the coat racks outside of the manager’s office and headed to the front of the shop, you could still smell Bucky on you. That spicy and sweet but still not unpleasant aroma. It beat out even the smell of ground coffee beans that filled the building. You would call the man, you decided. You would call him because Bucky had insisted that you should, and somehow that made it feel safe.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky’s behavior is all over the charts. Maybe it’s just to throw you off before he drops a bombshell?

“Sweet baby Jesus, who was that and are you willing to share?” You heard a voice over your shoulder as you checked your register to make sure the drawer was set to go.

  
You gave a chuckle, turning to face your manager. Tessa waggled her eyebrows at you, pulling another bout of laughter from you. You liked your job. At your job you felt ordinary. New York City was a big place, and bad things happened all the time, which meant you’d yet to meet anyone who had heard about what happened to you. Nobody took pity on you. Nobody looked at you like you might self-destruct at any moment. You were just a person. An uninteresting, unremarkable, average human being. And that felt nice.

  
“He’s my housemate, and he’s all yours if you want him,” you smiled.

  
“What’s with the arm though?”

  
Your smile faltered. “It’s just a cool looking cover for his prosthetic,” you lied.

  
“Cool. Gives him a total Winter Soldier vibe,” Tessa said. “Bad boys are my weakness.”

  
“I thought coffee was your weakness,” I nodded towards the T-shirt that was part of of her uniform that held a cartoon drawing of Captain America being brought to his knees by a sentient coffee bean with eyes and arms with the words “Coffee is my weakness”. Most of the workers had Avengers-themed work shirts. You had opted for a plain top, only similar to everyone else’s in the fact that it read the shops name “Super Bean” on the back.

  
“Hey, I’m allowed more than one weakness. There’s nothing wrong with being weak sometimes,” Tessa countered.

  
You opened your mouth to reply only to be stopped by a customer approaching the counter. You put on your customer-service face and thanked whatever heavens might have been above that you’d gotten out of that conversation without having to admit to the fact that you were living with the Avengers. You’d have to remember to be more careful about who saw you with Bucky.

 

***

 

  
Bucky showed up at your job ten minutes before your shift ended. He’d replaced his T-shirt with a red flannel and was wearing the usual glove on his hand to hide his shiny, metal fingers. He approached the counter, eyes scanning the menu on the wall behind you for a moment before lowering to where you were staring up at him, chewing on your bottom lip.

  
“Can I get a mint chocolate chip iced coffee?” He asked, face set in stone.

  
It was almost funny, this absolutely threatening looking man requesting and ice cream flavored iced coffee.

  
“Good choice,” you said as you began to ring his drink into the register, still using the overly chipper voice that you saved exclusively for customers. “What size would you like?”

  
“Large.”

  
“Whipped cream on that? We make it ourselves, in house.”

  
A smirk tugged at the left corner of his mouth and he gave a small nod of his head. “Sure. ‘d love to try your cream.”

  
Your face instantly turned into molten lava and for a moment you forgot how to work the register that you had been running for the past eight hours. You cleared your throat, focusing on the screen in front of you, only glancing up long enough to see a look of regret flash across his face before the smirk fell from his lips. A voice in the back of your head told you to reach out and slap him for the crude innuendo but you pushed it away.

  
“That’ll be four-sixteen,” the pep in your voice was gone. It had returned to that usual, hardly-more-than-a-whisper tone that you constantly used at him.

  
Bucky handed you a five dollar bill, telling you to keep the change which you then dropped into your tip jar before turning away to make his drink. You made quick work of fixing him his coffee before pulling the drawer out of your register, grabbing your tip jar, and heading to the back office. Settled down at your managers desk you proceeded to count down your drawer before dropping the day’s profit into the safe and then counting your tips. Your eyebrows furrowed when you dumped out the tip jar and amongst the loose dollar bills and handfuls of change was a crisp twenty dollar bill that definitely hadn’t been in there before.

  
Lips set in a hard line you exchanged your change for bills from your drawer before returning to the front of the shop, dropping your drawer back into your register and then marching around the counter to the table that Bucky sat at, sipping his drink through the straw sticking out of the plastic cup. 

  
“Unnecessary,” you said simply before dropping the twenty dollar bill on the table.

  
Bucky looked, unfazed, from you to the money and back again.

  
“Just trying to be nice.”

  
You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm and not have an absolute meltdown at your job. Honestly, why did this bother you so much?

  
“Appreciated, but you’ve done enough for me. I do not need more charity.”

  
“You keep saying that,” Bucky said as he stood up. “But I’m pretty sure all I did was traumatize you. Don’t really feel good brushing you off yet.”

  
“I don’t need your pity,” you mumbled through a stiff jaw.

  
“Then stop acting like a beaten puppy,” was Bucky’s response before turning towards the door and saying over his shoulder, “I’ll wait outside. Don’t forget my jacket.”

  
Defeated, you picked up the twenty that he had left on the table and quickly headed back behind the counter to clock out and grab his jacket from the back room. Tessa cocked an eyebrow at you, silently questioning what that heated discussion was about but not pushing it as you simply forced a smile and waved goodbye. You slipped Bucky’s jacket onto your shoulders before stepping outside. He started off in the direction of the Tower the moment he saw you, not pausing to make sure you were following. For a moment you almost didn’t. For a moment you almost took off in the opposite direction. But you had his jacket. You couldn’t just take off with it.  
So you jogged to catch up and then fell into step beside him.

  
“You call that guy?” He asked after you’d made it a few silent blocks.

  
“I was a little busy giving out bean juice all day,” you muttered, remembering the business card in your pocket for the first time since receiving it.

  
“You should.” Bucky hasn’t even glanced in your direction this entire time and you’re not so sure how you feel about that. “Be nice for you to get out, do something normal.”

  
“Yeah, I guess.”

  
“Was thinking…” he hesitated and took a deep breath and sighed, like he wasn’t happy with the words he was about to say. “Maybe we could start looking for an apartment for you. Something outside the Tower?”

  
You felt an immediate pang in your chest at the thought of that. At the thought of an empty one bedroom apartment and breakfasts at a table by yourself. Of chain locks and deadbolts instead of AI and superheroes to protect you from the outside world. You swallowed down the lump that was in your throat and asked the question you had been scared to.

  
“Have I overstayed my welcome?”

  
“Course not,” Bucky’s answer was immediate, the almost-panic in his tone the most emotion he had expressed the entire walk. “Natasha won’t be happy about it. Steve’ll fight it. Tony might bribe you to stay. But it’d be more normal than how you’re livin’ now. Might give you a chance to heal, not bein’ near me. I know I…I remind you of your…stuff.

  
Know it’s hard to deal with your past when it’s still staring you in the face. So I just…I don’t know. I could help you look if you want.”

  
The wind began to blow as the Tower came into view and you pulled your arms around yourself, cuddling into the leather jacket wrapped around you. As much sense as what he was saying made, there was still that nagging piece of your brain that told you he just wanted you out of his hair. That your “tin-man-phobia” had finally become too much, and that maybe the others were in on this idea for you to move out. They wouldn’t be any worse without you, after all. Especially not Bucky.

  
“Yeah, that’d be fine. You don’t have to help though. I can do it myself.”

  
“I know you can. Just…let me help? For my own peace of mind?”

  
“Yeah, sure,” you replied hollowly as you used your fingerprint to open the front doors of the Tower and slipped inside.  
Tears were stinging at your eyes for the second time that day and you hurried to the elevator, blinking quickly and pushing them back. You would not cry in front of him. He’d already seen you at your weakest, there was no reason to let him see you break down. You didn’t need to give him any more reasons to pity you. 


	6. Chapter 6

Part of you had hoped that Bucky would leave you alone and let you take the elevator alone, but you had no such luck. He stepped on to the elevator behind you and stood in the center of it, staring straight ahead.

“You hungry?” He asked.

You simply shrugged your shoulders, not even taking the time to consider that he wasn’t looking at you to be able to see it. Maybe he noticed out of the corner of his eye, or maybe he was planning to keep talking despite your answer, but a moment later he continued, “The team won’t be back until late, but I checked the freezer and Tony has a couple steaks in there— the good, expensive ones.”

“Oh.” You said and immediately mentally scolded yourself. Oh? Oh? You were supposed to be being nice to him and all you could come up with was “Oh”?  
“I could cook them up, pull out a bottle of wine or something and we could start looking at apartment listings.”

Damn, he was really eager to get rid of you. Honestly, could you blame him? You’d be eager to get rid of you too. The more you thought about it, the more your negative piece of mind tried to convince you that the rest of the team had put him up to this. That they had wanted you gone for a while and your tantrum this morning had been the final straw. You tried to block out that negativity but you couldn’t deny that it made sense. You’d ignored so many obvious hints from your parents towards the end that they thought it was time for you to move out, and if you had then they would still be okay. It’d be better to get out now before their charity could come back to bite you in the ass.

“Yeah, sounds good.” A moments hesitation and then you added, “I can cook them, if you…if you want me to.” You but your lip. You had been about to say “if you don’t actually know how to cook” but you thought better of it.

As if he’d read your mind he gave a dry chuckle and replied, “My ma taught me to cook, back before the war. I can handle a couple steaks. You can find something to go with them and make that though?”

You nodded, but remembered this time that he wasn’t looking at verbally responded, “Yeah, I can do that.”

“And…maybe after a few glasses of wine you’ll get up the courage to call that guy?”

Your head whipped towards him to find him suppressing a smile. Your heart sped up and as he stifled a chuckle you got the nagging suspicion that he could hear the sound of it pounding against your chest.

“You’re really hell bent on me calling him, aren’t you? My phone isn’t even broken.”

“He won’t care, I can tell.”   

“Oh really, and how’s that?”

“Because I know how a guy looks dame when he’s interested. And he was interested.”

You rolled your eyes. “What’s with the sudden interest in my love life?”

“Just want you to be happy,” he said the words simply, as if they were the most natural thing in the world but they didn’t sound that way in your ears. The elevator bell rang and the doors slid open to reveal the hallway that lead to the common room. “Go change, I’ll get dinner started,” Bucky instructed, pressing the button for your apartment’s floor before stepping off the elevator to head towards the kitchen.

The doors slid closed and you furrowed your eyebrows, leaning against the back of the elevator.

_I just want you to be happy._

Did he really? It was a legitimate question, you’d spent the whole six months you’d spent with the Avengers so he’ll-bent on avoiding him that you had never once stopped to contemplate exactly how he felt towards you. You supposed you had assume he simply felt indifferent to you being there. He saved you and you had nowhere else to go, so he had taken you in and simply dealt with you: that’s how you had viewed it. But now you weren’t so sure. The second you had let him act like more than just an estranged acquaintance he was giving you twenty dollar tips, and helping you search for apartments, and trying to play matchmaker.

But then again, that evil little voice in your head countered, he could have just been put up to it by the rest of the team. They wanted you gone but didn’t want you so alone that you realized they had abandoned you.

You made quick work of changing out of your work uniform, tossing the dirty clothes into the corner before pulling on a pair of black leggings and an oversized black sweater that hung off of your left shoulder. You adjusted the wide neck line to make sure it wasn’t hanging too low in the front and were just about to head back down to the kitchen when your bed caught your attention. The blankets were a mess from where you had leapt out from beneath them the night before, but damn, it looked inviting. Bucky would have to thaw the steaks before cooking them, you rationalized. You could spare to lay down for just a second. Your feet were killing you after eight hours of running around, after all.

So you climbed into bed, and you settled beneath the covers, rolling onto your side and letting your kids fall closed. You would just rest your eyes for a second.

 

 

_“Tell me you love me.”_

_“I love you!”_

_Like you mean it.”_

  
_“I love you you.”_

  
_“Then kill her. Kill her and they live.”_

_BOOM_

_Holding your arm roughly, Simon pushed you out of your front door. You stumbled down the front steps, hardly regaining your balance before he was there again, retaking your arm and shoving something hard against your side._

_Through tear-blurred eyes you looked down to see that he was holding the gun underneath his jacket but still pressing it to your side._

_“Walk,” he growled into your ears, and you obeyed, tripping along beside him down the street._

_You sobbed without a second thought until he threatened to shoot if you didn’t shut up. You tried to keep your cries quiet after that, but somehow that just forced you to devolve into a series of short, painful gasps. You were hyperventilating as tears streamed down your face._

_“Shut up!” Simon hissed, jabbing your side with the barrel of the gun._

_Your clamped your lips shut. You tried to have your panic attack in a quieter fashion, but it hardly worked. Next thing you knew there was a man running up to the two of you, standing menacingly a foot taller than even Simon in a grey hoodie and black sweatpants._

_“She okay?” He asked, his eyes falling down to where Simon’s hand was shoved suspiciously inside of his jacket._

_“Great. Just…relationship problems. We’re working it out.”_

_Simon was smiling. You could hear it in his voice. It sounded so natural._

_“Maybe you should let her go? Looks like you’re holding her pretty hard.”_

_That was it, that was all it took for Simon to snap. You felt relief as Simon released your arm and pulled the gun from your side, pulling it out of his jacket. Before he could fully face it at the large, intimidating man before you, the man had grabbed Simon’s wrist and twisted it back so sharply that the gun fell from your boyfriend’s hand as he cried out in pain._

_You reacted on instinct, leaping forward to grab onto the man’s arm, begging incoherently for him to let Simon go because despite everything you still had that stupid fucking need to look out for Simon. Apparently he didn’t share the sentiment._

_“I don’t need your fucking help!” Simon shouted, and it took you a moment to realize he was even talking to you. Too long of a moment, because before you could back off in your own his free fiat reeled back and caught you in the chin._

  
_You fell away, landing on your ass and staring up in a daze. Honestly, after everything that has just happened, you hardly even felt it. You briefly wondered if you would ever feel anything again. The thought was short lived and replaced by horror as the stranger let out a shout of anger and reached up with his right arm. You stared in horror at the metal hand that wrapped itself around Simon’s throat. The mechanical whirring that was only drowned out by the sound of something in Simon’s neck snapping. You screamed. You screamed louder than you had the entire night as a monster tried to kill the man you loved._

 

“(Y/N)!”

You gasped as you were woken up by a hand shaking your shoulder. You looked down and a cry caught in your throat as you saw the same hand that you’d just watched fracture Simon’s neck now gripping your shoulder. You flailed out hitting it before rolling away and falling off of your been.

You groaned. Your tailbone hurt where it had hit the floor and your hand hurt where you had struck Bucky’s metal arm. You did your best to calm your breathing before pulling yourself into your knees, peering over the edge of your bed to where Bucky sat in the opposite side of it, staring at you wide-eyes and concerned.

“What the fuck?! You scared me!” You accused.

“You were having a nightmare,” Bucky explained, looking down like a child who had just been scolded. A few strands of hair that weren’t secured in a hair tie fell down over his face. “You were…whimpering and stuff. Heart was beating fast. I was…” he took a deep breath and then looked up at you. “I was scared.”

You sat in stunned silence for a moment. Despite the events that you had just relived in your dreams, somehow Bucky had just revealed something more shocking.

He was scared…for you.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner with Bucky isn’t as bad as you would have expected. Hell...it’s actually not bad at all.

“I baked some potatoes and made a salad. When F.R.I.D.A.Y told me you were asleep I figured I’d let you rest.,” Bucky reached up and scratched the back of his neck as he continued to walk in front of you, leading the way into the kitchen. “Guess I shouldn’t have.”

You grimaced as the two of you entered the kitchen but your embarrassment disappeared as quickly as it had come.

The table was set like you had just been served at a fancy restaurant. Salad bowl in the center with two plates set across from each other at the end of it closest to you, both with an enormous steak, a baked potato, meticulously topped with butter, sour cream, and chives, and a salad that looked like it’d been plucked from a magazine.

The thing that really got you were the two white ceramic cruets sat beside the salad bowl, one labeled “O” for oil and the other “V” for vinegar. You knew for a fact that those old things had been gathering dust in the back of the cupboard for at least the past six months, which meant Bucky had found them, washed them, and then filled them, just to make the table look nice. He could have very well just placed the olive oil jug and red wine vinegar bottle on the table, and you would have thought nothing of it. That one, little detail, nearly made you smile.

Maybe he wasn’t trying to hurry you out of the Tower. Maybe he was really just trying to do something nice.

Your hopes dipped down when you remembered his promise to help you find an apartment. Because then again, maybe he was just trying to soften the blow before he forced you to pick out the place you were going to live in, by yourself, for the foreseeable future. You wanted to insist that you didn’t have the money saved up to leave, but you knew that if you did, and Bucky responded “Tony said he’d cover the first payment” that it would confirm all of your fears and you’d rather keep the box closed on your Schrödinger’s Cat for now.

“This is really nice, Bucky. Thank you.” You did your best to keep your initial smile on your face as he stopped by the chair closest to you and pulled it out. You couldn’t help but scoff as you took hold of the back of the chair. “It’s not the 40’s anymore, you know?”

“Right,” Bucky pulled his hand away as if he’d just been burned. “Sorry.”

After awkwardly clearing his throat, Bucky made a sudden turn towards the refrigerator and you watched as he made his way over and pulled something out. When he turned back around your eyes narrowed.

“What is that?”

His eyebrows furrowed.

“Um…ketchup?”

Your jaw went slack. “Excuse me?”

“Am I missing something?” He asked with bewilderment.

“If you put ketchup on that expensive ass steak I am leaving right now.”

His face relaxed in an instant and he chuckled, turning back around to the fridge, putting back the ketchup, and closing the door. “Alright, Miss. High Society. What do you suggest?”

With confidence, you strode over to the cupboard above the stove, opened it, and pulled out your favorite bottle in the kitchen: Sriracha.

“What the hell is that?” Bucky asked, and you couldn’t help but notice how his head slightly tilted to the side, like a puppy who was staring at something he didn’t understand.

You did your best to suppress the laugh that that wanted to bubble up from your throat, and headed back to the table without a word. You poured a zig-zag line of the sauce on your steak before cutting off a small piece, just as Bucky also reached the table, standing beside his own chair.

“Try,” you demanded, extending your fork towards him, and Bucky complied, leaving forward to eat the piece of meat off of your fork.

Your brain screamed at you to yell at him— to tell him you had wanted him to take the food with his fingers, not his mouth, but you silenced the voice. And somehow, right now, it was easier to do than usual.

“Guh!” Bucky grunted, his face contorting. “Why didn’t you tell me it’s spicy?”

“You’re a genetically enhanced superhero who takes beatings on a weekly basis,” you rationalized as you also sat down in your own chair. “Forgive me for thinking you could handle a little spice.”

Bucky gave a shrug of his shoulders, as if to concede and tell you that you were right, before reaching across the table and grabbing the Sriracha bottle.

“It’s not bad,” he said, before dousing his own steak in the sauce.

 

All in all, you didn’t hate having dinner with Bucky. As much as it felt like you were betraying yourself, you couldn’t help but almost have a good time. The food wasn’t bad— way better than you had expected. Maybe it partly had to do with the fact that he was still wearing his flannel and one of his gloves, hiding his metal arm from your view. Maybe it was because you could, for the evening, just pretend that he was a normal person, and not some horrifying monster.

Man, maybe you really did have Tin-Man Phobia.

“So,” Bucky said as he began to clear away your plates. “How about that wine, and maybe a little apartment hunting?”

“You’re really trying to get rid of me, huh?” The words came out in a joking tone, even despite the persistent stab of hurt you were still feeling.

“Well…” Bucky dropped your plates into the kitchen sink before moving back to the fridge for the second time that night, pulling out a black bottle with a black and white label. “We can apartment hunt, or…you can call Cell Phone Guy.”

He gave you a wink before turning to rummage through the silverware drawer in search of a bottle opener. You bit your bottom lip to try and keep from smiling.

This was only the…well…eightieth time he had mentioned the man from this morning since you started eating. He seemed like he was just teasing, but the frequency with which he brought it up suggested otherwise. He apparently was really intent on you getting a date, which made you feel weirdly…special? Somehow? Like he thought that you deserved a date. Like you were worth a date. And while no part of you actually was looking into get into a relationship (possibly ever again), you couldn’t help but feel your ego being fluffed every time Bucky insisted that Cell Phone Guy was waiting for you to call.

A sudden POP! pulled you out of your thoughts, causing you to jump and gasped. Bucky chuckled softly, no doubt with his enhanced hearing he knew that he’d startled you. Without grabbing any glasses, Bucky strode back over to the table and sat down, offering you the bottle.

“No glasses?” You asked.

“I don’t have cooties. The serum took care of them.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching the bottle of wine from him and, without hesitation, raising it to your lips and taking a swig. Instantly you recoiled, scrunching up your face in disgust as you thrust the bottle back towards him.

“You don’t like it?” Bucky asked, looking genuinely concerned as he glanced down at the bottle and then back up at you, now sticking your tongue out as if to try and air out your mouth.

“Ugh!” You groaned as you shook your head. Bucky’s concern melted into a grin and he took the bottle from you and set it down on the table. He stood, crossing the kitchen to the doorway and looking back at you mischievously.

“What?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Wanna go raid Tony’s bar in the conference room?”

“He won’t get mad?”

Bucky shrugged. “Dunno. Can’t hurt to try. I think Thor left some Asgardian mead there though.”

“You trying to get me fucked up enough to call Cell Phone Guy?”

Bucky’s smile wavered— just barely, but just enough for you to notice. You didn’t need super hearing to figure out what he muttered as he turned and started out of the room.

“Or just drunk enough that I can take this damn glove off.”.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your night is going well, until it isn’t. But Sam is there. And that makes things better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya’ll if I hadn’t already intended this to be a Bucky/Reader fic it would have turned into a Sam/Reader fic right now. Sam is a gift, and he deserves the world. 
> 
> Oh! Also I used the “C” word in this chapter. I know that ruffles some peoples’ feathers

It was a little past eleven o’clock at night when the team arrived home from their mission. Bucky and you were still in the conference room, pleasantly buzzed, if not downright plastered. You laid on the conference table on your stomach, stretched across it lengthwise with your feet pointed towards the door. Your chin was propped up on one hand as the other hand continuously lifted your glass of straight vanilla vodka to your lips. Bucky sat in a chair close to your head, his feet propped up on the chair beside him and angled so you both could look at the laptop that was open on the table.

  
“Yoooo!” You exclaimed, setting down your drink as Bucky clicked on yet another apartment listing.. “That’s a fucking pimp pad!” You rolled onto your back and spoke up to the ceiling. “I could get soooooo many bitches in that place.”

  
Bucky had just taken a mouthful of Asgardian mead and you could hear him suddenly struggle not to spit it out as he started to laugh. Eventually he managed to swallow without making a mess.

  
“Hey now,, we don’t talk about dames like that in this house!” He scolded.

  
“Good thing I’m about to move into a pimp pad then.”

  
“Isn’t it called a _bachelor_ pad?”

  
“Not if you’re a pimp.”

  
“You’re way too big of a homebody to be a pimp.” That was not Bucky. Bucky did not say that last sentence. A female said that last sentence.

  
You bolted up into sitting position and Bucky rocketed out of his chair, pivoting to face the door where Natasha led a band of battered-looking Avengers. She, Clint, Sam and Wanda smirked with amusement. Vis and Steve glanced at each other sideways in confusion, while Tony was shoving his way to the front of the room to glare at the two of you.

  
“Why, pray tell, are you drinking my vodka?” He asked, eyeing the glass beside you on the table.

  
You bit your lip and glanced over at Bucky nervously before looking down at your lap like a child who’d just been caught with their hand in a cookie jar.

“Because your wine was gross,” you muttered down at your lap. That drew a few chuckles from the team that were silenced by a quick glance from Tony.

  
“You,” Tony pointed a finger at you as you looked back up, “young lady, are grounded. Go to your room.”

  
Your mouth fell open in astonishment. Who the fuck did he think he was? It was some cheap flavored vodka, and he was a billionaire, why was he even—

  
Your hazy brain suddenly registered the glint of amusement in his eyes and you pursed your lips together and scowled at him. He was screwing with you.

  
“Last I checked,” you slurred as you pulled yourself down from the conference table and walked as straight as you could over to Tony. “My parents are six feet under. Which means I get to steal all the cheap liquor I want.”

  
Your entire body tensed the moment the words had left your mouth and the mix of shocked and uncomfortable expressions on everyone’s face did nothing to calm you. You used to always make jokes about your problems— people always do. They make jokes about their woes as a means to cope. This was normal. At least for the old you, that had been normal, and that’s why your brain hadn’t second guessed itself before speaking. Now, despite Tony’s insistence that you try to cope and deal with your problems better, he still looked like you had just grown a second head. He still expected you to be broken and inconsolable about everything so he was reacting like you were broken an inconsolable, even in this drunken moment where you had finally, for the first time in half a year, felt okay. And that, more than your words, made you feel like you were still broken and inconsolable.

  
“Um, you guys probably need the room to debrief. I’ll head to bed.” You forced a half-smile and started towards the door.

  
“I’ll ride up with you,” Bucky immediately offered.

  
“No,” you replied too quickly and too intensely. It reminded you of that morning. It probably reminded him of that morning too. That’s why you didn’t receive any more resistance as you hurried through the door, shouldering through the crowd of super heroes, and headed down the hallway to the elevator.

  
“Hey! Hold the doors!” A voice called after you as soon as you stepped into the elevator.

  
If you were sober it would have dawned on you sooner that there was a button on the wall to close the doors immediately. Sam didn’t actually need the doors held. He was moving at a jog, and made it to the elevator in time to step on before the doors closed on their own. You really needed to start taking the fucking stairs.

  
“Looks like you had a good night,” Sam noted. You didn’t respond, just stared at him. He gave an uncomfortable laugh before pressing his lips together.

  
He let you ride up to your apartment floor in silence, but didn’t leave you when you reached it. He stepped out into the hall with you. He walked to your door with you. You didn’t put up a fight when he stepped into your living room with you. You examined him as you closed the door behind the two of you. He’d taken off his wings and his armor but he still stood there in a pair of black pants that where torn and muddied, and a black T-shirt that did nothing to hide the cuts on his arms. Without a word you walked to your bathroom, wet a washcloth, and returned to the living room where you had left him.

  
“Sit.” You nodded at your couch, and Sam obeyed, sitting down and watching you closely as you kneeled on the couch beside him and began wiping crusted blood from the wounds on his arm.

  
“I thought I was supposed to take care of you, Kid. Not the other way around.” Sam teased, but the humor in his tone was lacking.

  
“Not a kid.” You muttered, just like you always did.

  
“You’re right. You’re not.” You weren’t expecting him to say those words, and your cleaning paused so you could look at him in confusion. “You’re not a kid, I know. I think I like to pretend you are, because it’s easier to help kids. You hand them a lollipop, tuck them in at night, and tell them everything’s gonna be okay, and they believe you. But you don’t believe me, do you?”

  
Your head bowed as you went back to wiping at his cuts. God, one of them didn’t look like a regular cut. It was wider than the others, the outer edges of it straight and precise, unlike the cut from a fall. A bullet maybe? Had you been pouring coffee and wallowing in angst while Sam was dodging bullets to protect society? You were such a selfish cunt.

  
“I want to believe you,” you admitted, as if that would make everything better.

  
“I know you do,” Sam soothed. “I know you’re trying, and I’m proud of you. You wouldn’t even come out of your room when we first brought you here. Hell, you looked like you wanted to bolt as soon as Bucky walked into the kitchen this morning. And then I get home and you’re stretched out on the table joking and laughing like you’ve known him your whole life.” He wasn’t saying anything to upset you, but you still felt that all familiar sting in your eyes that told you your brain wanted you to cry. So you pushed them back. You pushed them back like you always did and just waited for Sam to continue. “You might not see it, and it might not feel like it, but things are getting better. They’re gonna keep getting better. You’ll be okay.”

  
Sam pulled his arm away from your cleaning and moved it, with a small wince of pain, to grab onto you and pull you to his side. You let him. You settled into his side and he leaned his head to rest his cheek on the top of yours.

  
“You’re allowed to be upset, baby girl.” The term of endearment sent a jolt through your veins. Didn’t someone in your life used to call you that? Was it your dad or was it Simon? You couldn’t remember. Six months later and it was still prominent enough to effect you, but you could not, for the life of you, remember who used to say it. Did that make you a bad person? He went on, “You’re allowed to be upset, and we’re gonna be here for you no matter how long you’re upset for. Okay?”

  
“Okay.” Your voice was tiny. Childlike, even.

  
He went silent after that. Sam went silent, and without even realizing it you slipped off into sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another night; Another nightmare. But this time Bucky hears.

_“It’s crazy, I told him to leave me alone days ago and he still takes his break at the same time with me everyday and sits with me,” you said with a small laugh as you laid down in Simon’s bed, cuddling against him as he wrapped his arm around you._

  
_“If you told him to stop then why didn’t he?” Simon asked casually._

  
_“Dunno, I’ll report it if he tries again tomorrow.”_

  
_“Why didn’t you report it before?”_

  
_“Didn’t seem that serious. But he’s been touching my hand and stuff lately. I don’t like it.”_

  
_Simon’s body tensed and that was the moment you knew you had done something wrong. It was the moment you knew you should have just shrugged and not answers, because ehe would have been okay if you’d just shrugged and not answered._

  
_Simon sat up then, scrambling around you to stand up off the bed and began to pace. He was muttering to yourself and as hard as you tried you could only pick up on a few phrases he was saying. “…wants to leave you”, “…gonna leave you alone”, “…doesn’t love you”._

  
_It broke your heart. You loved him. You so utterly, completely loved him, and somehow, no matter how absolutely hard you loved him, you kept setting him off. It was never enough. But you wouldn’t give up.. He was troubled and he was hurting and you were going to make that right and love him through all of it. He wanted children. He’d told you months ago that, at 22, he was completely determined to have children. To have someone to love and nurture the way his parents never did for him. And even though you were 21 and working for minimum wage making sandwiches at a fast food chain you wanted that for him too. You had stopped using condoms because you wanted that for him-that something that might offset his manic episodes and focus him on the good in the reality he had before him._

  
_You stood them, that thought clinging in your mind, and grabbed his wrist. You knew better. You knew better than to touch him when he was like this because his reaction wasn’t his fault. His reaction was just the cross-wired part of his brain flailing to stay in control. Because you grounded him. Because you made everything feel better for him, and the bad part of his brain didn’t like that._   
_He flung his arm out, unintentionally slamming his arm into your chest. You gasped and stumbled backwards. For a scrawny guy he was stronger than anyone would have expected. Before you could say another word he had pushed you down into his bed, his hand finding your throat and beginning to squeeze. You whimpered, you whimpered and did your best to try and sooth him despite the air that you weren’t being allowed._

  
_“You let him!” Simon accused. “You’re letting him.”_

  
_“No!” Was the only word you could manage._

  
_“You don’t love me!”_

  
_His hand left your throat but he still hovered over you._

  
_“I love you!” You cried like a plea between coughs. “I love you!”_

 

 

The violent sound of your door being kicked open and slamming against the wall is what snapped you out of sleep and back to reality. Before you could gather your thoughts the warm body you had been resting against was yanked away from you and a harsh thud met your ears. Your hands spread out, feeling the warmth on the couch cushions from where a body had just been seated in them.

  
“What did you do to her?” Your brain recognized that voice. Your gaze flew upwards to the wall right beside the door. Nobody had turned off your living room light. You could clearly see Bucky holding Sam by his throat against that wall.

  
“Nothing!” Sam struggled to say, his hands clawing at the metal arm that was cutting off his air supply.

  
“ What did you do?” Bucky demanded.

  
“Bucky!”

  
A single call of his name seemed to bring him back to reality a little bit, and suddenly Bucky was at your side, kneeling beside the couch as his metal hand grazed over the side of your face before you jerked away. That seemed to fully snap him out of whatever state he had been in.

  
“What the fuck are you doing?” You demanded.

  
He looked lost. He blinked a few times before leaning back into his behind, knees up so he could rest his elbows on them and rest his forehead in his hands.

  
“I heard you. You said ‘no’.” Bucky’s voice sounded desperate. Desperate for you to believe him? Desperate for you to forgive him? “I heard you say ‘no’.. I’m…” he went silent.

  
“I had a nightmare, Bucky, Jesus Christ!” You exclaimed as Sam cautiously approached the two of you.

  
“I thought…” he trailed off.

  
After a few seconds of silence Sam cleared his throat. “I’m gonna go ice my neck.” His hand lifted to his throat where he rubbed it tenderly. His eyebrows raised as he nodded at you. “You good?”

  
Hesitantly, you nodded your head. “I’m good.”

  
Bucky didn’t speak as Sam left through your broken door. It was flat against the wall beside it, angled as a single hinge held it to the frame. His breathing was heavy and his face remained in his hands. You could see his body moving with the labor of his breathing and if it was anyone else you would have felt bad. You would have wanted to comfort them. But your apartment lights glinted off the metal of his arm and that alone made you stay where you were, frozen and staring at him.

  
“What happened?” Your head shot to the side, finding Steve standing in the doorway shirtless and wearing a pair of sweatpants. His hair was messy from sleep and his eyes were too wide, like he had woken up suddenly. No doubt Bucky kicking in your door has done that to him. You wouldn’t have been surprised if it had awoken the rest of the team and if Steve was just the first to arrive.

  
“Your BFF just kicked down my fucking door and tried to choke out Sam, that’s what happened,” you spat at him, standing from the couch and pacing across the room to put distance between you and Bucky.

  
Bucky stood them, desperately looking to Steve like he was his judge and juror.

  
“I thought she was in trouble,” he explained frantically. “She was saying ‘no’ and whimpering, Steve. It was just a nightmare but I didn’t think. I thought Sam…I thought something was wrong.”

  
“F.R.I.D.A.Y. would have told us if something was wrong, Buck.” His words were soft, like he was trying to comfort Bucky, not scold him.

  
“I know. I know that. And I know I know that. But I woke up from a— another of those dreams, ya know?” He spared a meaningful look as he paused. “And I just thought…” Bucky shook his head and then looked over at you. “I’m sorry. You’re okay. ‘M so fucking sorry.”

  
Steve placed a hand heavily on Bucky’s shoulder, causing his friend to look back at him. “Everything’s okay, Buck. Let’s get you back to bed.” He ushered Bucky out of the room and then threw you a sympathetic look. “You get to bed too, okay?”

  
“Okay,” you nodded, and the two men disappeared.

 

You started towards your bedroom, your hands shaking, but paused partway there. Your nightlight was broken, and your bed would remind you of your dream with Simon. There was no reason to sleep in there. You turned quickly, heading back to the couch to lay down. You would sleep in the living room, with the light on, and pray it kept the nightmares away.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

You didn’t dream about Simon this time. This time you dreamed about your dinner with Bucky, but the plates on the table were empty and instead of a salad bowl there was a candle. There was a candle and beside it still sat the two cruets of oil and vinegar. Bucky sat beside you instead of across from you. He told you how nice you looked. He asked you about your day and laughed at your stories, and just as he leaned in, his lips on a straight course for yours, you woke up.

You woke up breathing heavily and confused because some how this dream left you more unsettled than any of the others. Deciding not to think about it, you headed downstairs to what would undoubtedly be an awkward confrontation with the team. Between them coming home to find you drunk and Bucky’s episode last night, you almost decided to skip breakfast. But your common sense told you that that would make things more awkward in the long run. So you went to face the music. You stopped in the hallway outside the common room when you heard voices ahead of you.

“…just keep having that dream,” Bucky said. “I’m in the park and that bastard has her, but I can’t move. He’s beating her and she’s screaming and I can’t do anything. I just have to watch.” He sighed loud enough for you to hear.

“We get it, Buck,” Natasha sympathized. “Nobody’s mad at you. We just—“

“Uh, I’m pretty fuckin’ mad,” Sam spoke up. It was almost funny, the way his snark was unhindered by the serious conversation happening.

You could practically feel the glare that Natasha was likely giving him as she continued, “We just think that you should talk to her about it. Maybe it would help.”

“No,” Bucky replied immediately. “I’m not putting that image in her head. I saved her, I brought her here, and it’s my job to keep her safe.”

“Says who? She’s a wreck and you’re obviously not much better.”

“Nobody asked you, Wilson.”

“You gave me a right to have an opinion on it when you burst in there last night and nearly ripped my head off.”

“I thought she was in trouble!”

“Nobody made it your job to make sure that she wasn’t!”

“ _I_ made it my job when I snapped her boyfriend’s neck, okay?” A tense silence filled the room and the next words came from Bucky again, but his tone had softened. “It’s my job.”

“You say that,” Sam scoffed, “But up until yesterday you wouldn’t even stay in the same room with her while she was conscious. Didn’t you literally beg me to take credit for covering her up all those times she fell asleep on the couch? You wanna sit there on the couch and rub her back and shit while she’s asleep— which, by the way, still think that’s pretty fucking creepy—“

“It calms her down,” Bucky defended, “When she’s having nightmares.”

“Right, sure.” Said Sam. “But the moment she starts to wake up you jet, and leave her to think I’m the one who took care of her. How is that supposed to work? Keeping her terrified of you, how is that keeping her safe?”

“It just is.”

“ _How_?”

“Because you’re better than me, Sam! Okay?” The words tore from Bucky’s throat so violently that it made you jump and it was everything you could do to stifle a gasp. “You’re a _good_ person! She needs good people taking care of her, not the metal fucking monster who was there on the worst night of her life! That’s why…that’s why I hung out with her last night. We started looking for apartments for her outside the tower. Figured, I get her to move somewhere close by where you guys can still keep an eye on her, and she doesn’t have to see me anymore. She can get better and doesn’t have to be scared everyday.”

“Huh,” Tony spoke for the first time. “Interesting. (Y/N), you got an opinion on this matter?”

Your stomach jumped into your throat.

Damn Tony! How the hell did he know you were there?

Sheepishly, you stepped from around the corner, looking at the shocked faces of the team now zoned in on you. Tony leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, beyond which you could hear Vision fixing breakfast. Wanda, Sam, and Natasha day on the couch while Clint sat on the floor, leaning his back against the couch, and Steve and Bucky stood in the center of the room. You chewed your lower lip between your teeth and did your best to avoid looking at Bucky. He looked a wreck, like he didn’t get back to sleep last night. There were dark marks underneath his eyes which were wide in surprise and something that resembled fear. Finally you spoke.

“I…I am scared,” you admitted. “I’m scared of Bucky. I’m scared of his arm. But…but I’m also scared of the dark. I’m scared of being alone. Sometimes I feel scared just walking down the street in broad daylight. And I don’t think that’s going away anytime soon, no matter where I live. So if you guys want me to move, I will. And I’ll be okay. Just say the word.”

“Hey, hey, no,” Sam was the first to speak, jumping from where he sat and quickly crossing the room to you. He wrapped you into a hug which you returned immediately, before pulling away. He left one arm around your waist and stood beside you. “We don’t want you gone. That mess was all Bucky’s idea. Who’s gonna whip your butt at _Tekken_ on your days off if you’re not living here?”

You did your best to laugh at the joke, but the sound came out hallow. The team didn’t want you gone, so why did the idea of leaving still twist your stomach in knots? Was it because Bucky wanted you gone? Your mind snapped back to your latest dream but you shoved the thought down. You didn’t want to think about that.

“I’d like to stay, if that’s okay with…” your eyes fell on Bucky, doing nothing to hide the meaning of your next word. “Everyone.”

“Doll…” the term of endearment made your stomach tighten again. “I don’t want you gone. I just want you to be okay. If I have to move out, and you stay. I’ll do it. I just—“

“You’re not moving out, Buck,” Steve said firmly.

Bucky ignored his friend, taking a few steps forward, like he wanted to move to you. To comfort you like Sam had. But he thought better of it. The plates in his arm whirred softly as he made a fist and then extended his fingers, not because he was upset. More like he was just remembering that the prosthetic was there, and that it made you uncomfortable.

“I have a suggestion,” Bruce suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway with a mug of coffee held in his hand. It made sense that he would have avoided a tense situation like the one that just took place. He gave you a soft smile as he stepped into the room. “Therapy could work wonders. I wanted to suggest it right when you came to live here but you didn’t seem…ready. We have a wonderful woman— Doctor Newman— who comes to the tower once a week for sessions with Bucky. I could talk to her about scheduling you in?”

Bruce’s face was soft yet hopeful, and even though a part of you wanted to say “absolutely no”, that sweet look on his face made it impossible to form those words.

“Yeah,” you said instead. “I think that’d be good.”

“Great!” Bruce beamed. “I’ll give her a call after breakfast.”

“Which,” It was now Vision’s turn to appear in the doorway. “Is served.”

Sam pulled away from your side, and you watched the rest of the team toss you a sympathetic look and then start heading to the kitchen. Natasha paused when she reached Bruce, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck as she murmured something to him that made him laugh. She placed a light peck on his lips and then, hand in hand, they headed into the kitchen.

It made your heart ache. Bruce had issues. Giant, green, destructive issues, and yet somehow Natasha had learned to tame them. She squashed his demons and the real Bruce could just be happy with her. That’s what you had wanted to do with Simon. Just be happy. What was so wrong with you that it went so horribly?

“You gonna eat?” Your jerked your head to where Bucky still stood. You hadn’t even realized he didn’t follow the others.

“Yeah. You?”

“If you don’t mind me— if it won’t make you uncomfortable, me being there.”

You shook your head. “I think I can manage. But Sam might—“

“Poison my orange juice? Try to stab me with a fork?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, something like that.”

“I think it’ll be okay. As long as you don’t mind me being in there, I think I can manage.”

You stepped towards him finally, your heart pounding like it was trying to break free from your ribs as your held out your left hand to him. Was this happening? Were you really about to do this? Bucky looked confused momentarily before reaching towards your hand that was still at your side with his flesh hand. Holding each other’s left hands wouldn’t work out too well, walking to the kitchen together.

You shook your head, steeling yourself in your decision and gently, as if he thought he might break you with it— because lord knows he could— Bucky reached out his metal hand and wrapped it around yours.

You expected to feel dread, and panic, and regret the instant it touched you, but you didn’t. You didn’t feel any different than before he’d taken your hand in his. And as the two of you headed towards the kitchen, you decided that was progress.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cell Phone Guy returns, and Bucky starts acting strange.

Breakfast was shorter than usual. Tony and Sam has to finish early to fill Sam in on what he’d missed while comforting you during the previous night’s debriefing. Nat and Bruce were all lovey-Dover through the meal and you couldn’t help but blush at the suggestive wink Nat threw over her shoulder at the room as she led Bruce out of the room less than twenty minutes into the meal. Wanda and Vision ate quickly and then disappeared to go train together, which left you and Bucky alone together in the kitchen, seated in the exact same seats you had shared dinner in the night before. It, quite honestly, felt like a set-up.

“You work today?” Bucky was first to break the silence, speaking through a mouthful of pancake.

You nodded. “Yeah, same shift as yesterday.”

“You want me to walk you?” Again, you nodded.

“That’d be…nice. I’d like that.”

Bucky smiled before turning his attention back to his plate and you did the same. You liked this. You liked being able to sit in the same room with him and not feel like you’d both rather be burying yourself under a rock than being near each other. Still, there was a feeling of unease that was gnawing at the back of your mind.

That damn dream you had the night before was on a constant background loop in your brain and the more you tried to block it out, the more it tried to make itself known. Why would your brain think about Bucky kissing you? You were friends now, yes, but that was it. Maybe it was just some shitty byproduct of your horrific life. Maybe, because you were so completely used to always having a significant other, you were getting the idea of filling the hole with Bucky. After all, according to the conversation you’d overheard earlier he already was taking care of you, even without you knowing it. He felt the need to protect you. He was large, but soft, and if you were honest with yourself you could see yourself feeling safe around him. But no, you wouldn’t let yourself get caught up in that mindset. You were forming a friendship, you were not about to mess it up from the start. Not to mention, you had tried your hand at a guy with issues before. It wasn’t something you were eager to try again, considering how royally you’d fucked everything up the last time, and Bucky was most definitely a guy with issues.

So, you chewed your pancakes in pleasant silence, gave him a friendly smile before heading to your room, and swore to shut down your intrusive thoughts.

 

Two hours later you were dressed for work, wrapped in Bucky’s jacket, and taking wide steps to keep pace with the super soldier walking to your left. What you were enjoying most about your improved relationship with Bucky was that there was no pressure to talk. You could just be together in silence because it was such a step up from refusing to be together at all. It was nice. You were caught up in your own thoughts, your almost-dream-kiss with Bucky just starting to tear its ugly head again when, by some miracle, a distraction presented itself.

“Hey!” A voice said, directed at you.

You paused your steps, Bucky also pausing a few seconds later, and immediately your eyes fell on the man from yesterday.

You both must have been running on the same schedule. You did your best not to blush or giggle as your eyes drifted over to Bucky’s smirking face, all of his teasing from the night before rushing back to your mind.

“Hey,” you replied.

“So…I take it your phone is fine?” He started off with small talk.

“Yeah! Yeah, it’s all good! Thanks for checking.” A small silence, that couldn’t have lasted more than a second but felt like two hundred, fell between the two of you and you cleared your throat. “I uh, didn’t catch your name.”

“Oh, right! Sorry, it was on the card…” You instantly wanted to facepalm. Even with Bucky bringing Cell Phone Guy up every other second you’d never actually looked at the damn business card he had given you. He continued, “Marcus. I’m Marcus.”

He reached his hand out for yours.

“(Y/N),” you replied, shaking his hand.

He was handsome. Dark hair and dark brown eyes, with a strong jaw and full lips. Maybe you could replace the idea of Bucky kissing you with the idea of Marcus doing it? That seemed like a viable solution.

“Do you maybe want to go out sometime?” You blurted out before you realized your mouth was even forming the words.

Marcus looked taken aback but quickly recovered, “I uh, yeah. Wow.”

“Sorry,” you felt like your face was on fire. “My friend,” you nodded towards Bucky, “has been insisting nonstop that I call you, even though my phone is fine. And just, what are the odds I bump into you again so soon? So I just figured—“

“Yeah, I said yes,” Marcus said through a chuckle, obviously amused by your rambling. Your body relaxed immediately as his agreement finally sunk in.

“Awesome. I’ll, uh, text you?”

“Yes, please do. This is kind of sudden, but I’m even free tonight, if you are. If that’s not too quick?”

“No, that’s not too quick. I’d like that.” The two of you stood there for a moment, smiling softly at one another before you suddenly remembered that you were supposed to be going to work. “I’ve gotta go but I’ll text you. And see you tonight?”

“Absolutely,” Marcus nodded. “I’ll see you later.”

With that, he continued on his way and you turned back to Bucky, your stomach absolutely filled to capacity with butterflies and grinning from ear-to-ear.

Your good mood came to a screeching halt, however, when you saw that Bucky didn’t look happy like you had expected him to be. He was watching. Marcus walk away, his jaw tense and his brows furrowed.

“Bucky?” You pulled his attention back to you and in an instant his entire demeanor changed.

He smiled at you, weakly, but it was there. “You really don’t think that was too quick? I mean…tonight?” Bucky asked.

You gave him an incredulous look as you began to walk again and he followed suit.

“You’re the one that’s been all over me to call the guy,” you pointed out.

Bucky shrugged. “Yeah, you’re right. Good for you,” he gave another half-hearted upward turn of his lips, and the two of you fell back into silence.

For some reason, it wasn’t as comfortable as it had been before.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is a moody butt. But hey, everyone has their issues. Especially you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Reader has a panic attack. Nothing too crazy but I just wanted to warn people just in case. 
> 
> ALSO, sorry I haven’t updated this in weeks. Hope ya’ll are still bearing with me. I got caught up with a Supernatural ABO fic, so if you’re a fan of this one just drop me some kudos or a comment. Feedback is going to dictate which one I update more frequently. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

>>What the hell is eating Barnes?<<

You sighed down at the text message from Natasha at the end of your shift. You could see Bucky through the glass windows of the coffee shop but he didn’t come inside to get you today. He’d hardly said a word to you when he dropped you off at work, and the only reason you could think he might be upset with you wasn’t one you were really okay with accepting.

  
He seemed jealous. You weren’t so oblivious that you couldn’t piece that together. But it didn’t make sense. He wanted you to go out with Marcus, so why now, all of the sudden, was he upset about you doing exactly that?

  
You shook your head, shaking away the thought before shrugging on Bucky’s jacket and bidding goodbye to Tessa. Bucky didn’t say a word to you when you stepped outside, just took off in the direction of the tower. You rolled your eyes as your cellphone vibrated in your pocket. You looked down and couldn’t help but smile at Marcus’s name on your screen. The smile faltered however when you read his message.

>>Why is my GPS saying the address you gave me is the Avengers Tower?<<

You clenched your lower lip between your teeth as you tried to figure out what to say. There wasn’t anywhere else to have him pick you up from, and when you had tried to insist on simply meeting him at the restaurant, he absolutely wasn’t having it. So you’d finally broken down and sent him the Tower’s address.

Honestly, what had you expected? That you’d be able to hide your living situation from him forever. You didn’t need to tell him the whole truth, but you could come up with something plausible. With a deep breath you responded:

>>Stark is a friend and he had some extra apartments.<<

>>That is SO cool!! : ) <<

You smiled briefly before looking up and realizing that you hadn’t moved since Marcus messaged, and Bucky was nowhere to be seen. You huffed, hugging his jacket around you and starting off down the street. It didn’t take long for it to suddenly become glaringly obvious that you hadn’t walked the streets of New York City by yourself in a long time. When there wasn’t someone walking with you— an Avenger, none the less, always intimidating and assertive even when trying not to be recognized— people were a lot more likely not to care that you were there. People shoved, and pushed, and nearly ran you over. Someone whose face you never got to see even pinched your ass.

  
Suddenly everything was too loud, and too bright, and your chest felt tight. One sound was indistinguishable from the next and you were so busy trying to figure out which way you were supposed to be going that you forgot to breath and suddenly you were desperately gasping for breath and elbowing your way towards the road. Every person who passed and wore glasses your brain immediately told you was Simon and you just needed to be away from all of them. So you stumbled off the sidewalk, just needing to be able to breathe for a second.

  
You didn’t see the bike headed your way until you were in front of it, and falling backwards to avoid being run over. The biker swerved to miss you, then righted himself and flipped you off as you fell on your ass, straight into a puddle, your hands being scraped on the street curb as they tried to break your fall.

  
“Doll!” A voice shouted from behind you and suddenly you were being hauled to your feet, still hyperventilating, and unaware of when the tears started falling down your cheeks. “What happened?”

  
All you could do was shake your head. You didn’t know what had happened. You’d walked down the streets by yourself all the time before. But every once in a while your brain just circuited. Not normally as severely as now, but it wasn’t unheard of. God, what was wrong with you?

  
“Y- you just left me!” You practically screamed, not caring that people were staying.

  
Was that it? Why had those words left your mouth? Were you really freaking out because Bucky left you?

  
Bucky left you.

  
Your family left you.

  
Bucky made Simon leave you.

  
And then Bucky left you.

  
And you were alone.

 

Bucky left you.

  
“You left me!” You screamed again, weakly slamming a fist against his chest.

It didn’t even phase him, and he didn’t say anything. He just wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to him in a way that pinned your arms to your sides. His chin rested on top of your head.

  
“Breathe, Doll. Just breathe. Come on, breathe with me.” Bucky began to take slow, exaggerated breaths, and as much as my brain screamed at me to get away from him, I did as he said and breathed with him. Slowly breathing became easier, which let oxygen get to your brain easier, and the world started to become clearer.

  
“I’m sorry,” you buried your face into his shoulder and cried. “I’m sorry, this is embarrassing. I just—“

  
“Didn’t do anything. I shouldn’t have left you. I’ve been a real ass today, huh?” Bucky asked.

  
You gently pulled away, not enough to pull yourself out of his arms, but just enough that you could look up and him.

  
“And not just to me, apparently. Nat messaged me before I left work.”

  
Bucky chuckled, releasing you and stepping back as he looked away and scratched the back of his neck.

  
“Yeah, I guess you’re not the only one I owe an apology to. Let’s get you home, and I’ll deal with that while you get ready for your date.”

  
You nodded and, doing your best to ignore the wetness from the puddle that had seeped through your pants and underwear by now, started off down the street with Bucky, walking close enough to him now that you occasionally bumped into his arm. The third time you did it, he wasn’t annoyed with you, but rather stretched out his arm to put it over your shoulder and hold you to his side as you walked.

  
“Gottcha, (Y/N), you’re okay.”

  
You nodded silently, and finished your walk home that way.

 

 

An hour and a half later you emerged from your bedroom after hearing a knock on the metal of the new door Tony had had installed for you while you were at work. You could open it by asking F.R.I.D.A.Y. to do so, by scanning your fingerprint from the outside, or simply by pressing a button on the inside. Now, scuffling along in a pair of high heels you hadn’t worn in forever and struggling to snap closed a pair of hoop earrings, you called out, “F.R.I.D.A.Y., who’s at my door?”

  
“Mister Barnes.” The AI replied.

  
“Let him in.”

  
Immediately your apartment door slid open and Bucky stepped inside. He opened his mouth to speak but paused as he looked at you. Did he not like your dress? He was just staring. You finished putting in your earrings and self-consciously tugged at the bottom of the black, long sleeved bodycon dress that you wore. Now that you thought about it, it was kind of short.

  
“I don’t have a lot of dresses. I know this one looks—“ you started to explain yourself, only to have Bucky cut you off.

  
“You look amazing. Marcus is a…uh… is gonna feel like a really lucky guy when he sees you.” Bucky cleared his throat abruptly. “Speaking of which, he’s downstairs.”

  
Your jaw went slack. “He came inside?!”

  
“Yeah…”

  
“Jesus, I told him to wait in the car. Is everyone being weird? Fuck, I bet everyone’s being weird.”

  
“No, no,” Bucky said in a way that absolutely didn’t convince you. “Tony just gave him a glass of water and then pulled his prints from it in front of him, so he could run a background check. Oh, and Sam told him, quote, ‘you lay a hand on my little sister and I’mma beat yo ass’.”

  
You wanted to dissolve into the floor. Or at least call the date off. But it was too late for that.

  
“Figured I’d come get you,” Bucky explained, “Before Clint pulls out his bow or something.”

  
“Appreciated,” you hugged, brushing against him as you moved to leave your still open doorway. You paused, looking back at Bucky. “You’re okay, right?”

  
“Yeah, I’m good. I…got worried, with this all happening so fast and all. Got too in my head over it. But he really seems like a nice guy, and I really do hope tonight goes well.”

  
“Thank, you, Bucky.” In a moment of sudden boldness you stepped back towards him, resting a hand on his arm as you leaned up and placed a kiss on his scruffy teeth. It sent a jolt down through your core, your lips touching his warm skin like that. You ignored that fact and quickly pulled away, blushing. “You’re a really great friend.”

  
You saw the dopey smirk on his lips falter for just a moment before you turned away to go save Marcus from the Avengers. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your date with Marcus goes...not as planned.

“That was…insane!” Marcus exclaimed as the two of you exited the Avengers Tower and started towards the car parked by the curb. He wasn’t upset, or embarrassed. He was ecstatic. “I just sat on the same couch as Captain _freaking_ America!” He opened your car door for you and you climbed in pulling your jacket—which you couldn’t help noticing wasn’t as warm as Bucky’s— in close to you to make sure it didn’t get caught in the door. Marcus rounded the car and climbed into the driver’s side, continuing to talk like he hadn’t missed a beat. “Iron Man just tricked me into giving him my prints. The Falcon just threatened me. Are you really his sister?”

  
You laughed, “No, he just likes to act like it. Complete with teasing and pranking me.”

  
Marcus shook his head as he pulled away from the curb. “So crazy. I just met Black _freaking_ Widow. God, she’s hotter in person.”

  
You forced a smile at that, trying not to be bothered by the fact that he hadn’t even commented on your appearance yet. You weren’t that shallow and petty, he was obviously attracted to you. He was going on a date with you, after all. If you’d just found out your date lived with celebrity super humans you might be a little distracted to. You wouldn’t be bothered by it.

  
Nope.

  
Totally not phased.

  
Not at all.

 

Well, until an hour later when you were at the restaurant being served your desert. The night had consisted of Marcus asking you questions about your housemates. You didn’t completely mind. He thought it was cool, and there was never an awkward lull in conversation, and he was so busy fanboying over meeting everyone that he never stopped to ask why exactly you were living with them. Honestly, the part that bothered you was that he had not once, the entire night, said a word about Bucky.

  
“Yeah,” you said as you pierced your cheesecake with your fork. “They’re all really cool. Bucky was kind of off-putting at first, but he’s growing on me.”

  
Marcus grimaced. “I don’t know about him. Not totally convinced he didn’t blow up that building.”

  
Your eyes shot upward from your food. “He didn’t though. They got the guy that did.”

  
“Yeah, But,” Marcus sighed. “Just seems sketchy. Either way, wasn’t he like a murderer before they took him in.”

  
“He was under mind control.”

  
“Yeah but…was he though? I’ve never heard of mind control being real before.”  
“Yeah, well, before the Avengers I’d never heard of super soldiers, and alien invasions, and secret, super advanced African societies being real either.”

  
Marcus shrugged and, feeling the unease in the air, decided to change the subject. “So, you work at a coffee shop? Very, New York City Youth of you.”

  
I chuckled. “Yeah, well, it’s good money. And it’s easy. How’d you get into the cell phone business?”

  
“I’ve always been into electronics. Built my first PC when I was thirteen. I fix more than just cellphones. It was, ah, on the card.”

  
Your face heated up. Other than to grab his phone number you had still never fully examined the damn card he’d given you. The first day you’d been too preoccupied with Bucky and today you had been to preoccupied with…well…with Bucky. A wave of shame washed over you and you ducked your head, taking another bite of your cheesecake.

  
“I’m really sorry, I’ve just been so caught up in everything I forgot to fully read your card.” You apologized.

  
“Don’t worry about it. Just gives us more to talk about.” He gave you a dazzling grin.

  
You couldn’t help but giggle. “Very true.”  
Marcus set down his fork suddenly, looking up at you with an expression that was a mixture between anxious and embarrassed. “Look,” He said, “I’m having a good time. I really like you. Do you maybe wanna…get out of here? Head back to my place?”

  
You nearly choked on your desert. Fuck. Already?

  
A part of you wanted to tell him “no”. But another part of you was flattered. Simon was the only person you’d ever slept with but you knew what heading back to someone’s place implied and the first thing that occurred to you was that it meant he found you attractive. It meant he wanted to do things with you, and…well…it was nice to feel wanted like that. It was nice to be so distracted by just being normal that you didn’t have time for nightmares, and panic attacks, and anxiety. So you nodded, and pulled your napkin from your lap, setting it beside your plate to signal that you were done.

  
“Excuse the mess!” Marcus said as he flipped on the light switch on his apartment.

  
It was a nice place, despite the mess of electronics and computer parts scattered across his coffee table. The living room was large, with a sliding glass door that led out onto a balcony. An open doorway led into a kitchen, and directly across the room from the front door was a hallway.   
“Wow, this place is ginormous,” you said as you shrugged it off of your shoulders.

  
“Yeah, I used to have a roommate but he got engaged and moved out a few months ago,” Marcus explained as he took your jacket from you and hung it on a hook next to the door.

  
“I couldn’t imagine living in a big place like this by myself.”

  
Marcus shrugged as he hung up his own jacket and headed towards the kitchen. You followed him. “Wine?”

  
You hesitated, your mind immediately flashing back to the night before with Bucky, how your fancy wine night had devolved into a booze-fest in the conference room. You suppressed the grin that wanted to spread across your face and settled on a muted smile.

  
“Yeah, sounds good,” you nodded.

  
Marcus smiled back at you before fetching the wine from his fridge and two wine glasses from his cabinet. He poured the glasses and then extended one to you and again your mind flirted back to the night before. The way Bucky has laughed at you after you drank from the bottle. The fact that Bucky didn’t feel like the kind of guy you needed to put on heels and a dress for— more the kind of guy that would want you to pull on pajamas and watch TV with him.

  
“I’m gonna go take out my contacts really quick, they’re bugging my eyes. You can go get comfy on the couch,” he gave you a wink and set his glass on the table before dropping a quick, casual, kiss on the top of your head before disappearing from the room.

  
You toured the living room more in depth while he was gone. You glanced through his movie collection— mostly superhero flicks— before strolling over to the sliding glass door. You were all the way up on the eleventh floor and were curious about the view. The absolute last thing you expected to see when you looked out into the New York City night was Bucky Barnes attempting to pull himself over the metal bars of the balcony’s railing. After throwing a panicked glance over your shoulder you opened the door just enough to fit your head through.

  
“What the absolute _fuck_ are you doing?” You hissed as Bucky sat there frozen in place, halfway off the balcony.

  
“I just…

  
“Were stalking me? How did you even get up here?”

  
“I—“

  
“Don’t answer that. Just go!”

  
With that you pulled your head back into the apartment, closed and locked the sliding glass door, and pulled the door’s curtain closed just as Marcus re-entered the living room. You raised your wine to your lips and took down the whole glass in one swig.

  
“Trying to get some more privacy?” Marcus teased suggestively.

  
“Mhm,” You said before swallowing the last gulp of your wine and then placing your glass on what little empty space there was on the coffee table.

  
Honestly, what the fuck was Bucky doing? Rage was seething through you and mixing with the warmth from the wine that was starting in your stomach. Honestly, what right did he have to absolutely invade your privacy like that? How long had he been tailing you? Screw him. Whatever his excuse was, it had to have something to do with his inexplicable disdain for your date, and that made your next move reasonable to you.

  
Still wearing your heels you strode over to Marcus, closing your eyes and roughly pressing your lips to his. He made a soft noise of approval as his hands instantly moved down to your hips, gripping tightly before walking you towards the couch without breaking the kiss. You fell at an angle, landing on your back with Marcus’s arms caging you in, his hips between your thighs. You could feel him getting hard as he pressed against you You were really going to do this.

  
Until he pulled away, and looked down at you. His eyes intense and hungry behind his glasses which you hadn’t really taken the time to notice until you were up this close. Those fucking glasses, large and thick-rimmed, just like Simon’s were.

Why did he suddenly look so much like Simon? Didn’t Simon used to look at you like that? Didn’t he used to pin you down like this, even when you weren’t in the mood?

  
Suddenly your hands were flying up to press against Marcus’s chest, shoving him away from you and replacing his look of lust with one of confusion.

  
“I can’t— I can’t.” You sputtered as means of an explanation before you pulled yourself from underneath him and stumbled to the door, slipping out into the hallway and leaving Marcus on his couch, completely dumbfounded. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of self-loathing and bad thoughts. Also things get steamier than the last chapter. You’ve been warned!

God, why couldn’t you keep your shit together for ten fucking minutes? Why was it so hard just to push everything to the back of your mind and enjoy existing for one second? Did you not deserve it?  
No. The answer was no, and you knew it. Your “normal” is what destroyed your whole life. It’s what ended your parents’ and your sister’s lives. Your normal had landed Simon in jail. You didn’t deserve normal. As nice as it had been the past two days playing pretend, like you weren’t a cancer to everyone you came into contact with, it was time to get back to reality. You couldn’t even have sex, a thing that normal people did every day, without ruining someone’s night.

Your feet were aching before you were even halfway back to the Tower. If you hadn’t been so deep in your self-loathing, you might have thought to hail a cab sooner. It only took a few minutes to wave one down, and fifteen minutes later you were sitting on the floor of the Tower’s elevator, unstrapping your heels as the doors slid open. Tony, Sam, and Natasha stood on the other side of them, in the hallway, a shocked expression on their faces. You yelped, scrambling to pull your legs together and stand up, hoping nobody got a flash of your panties.

  
“Rough night?” Sam asked.

  
You huffed, rolling your eyes. “Ask Barnes, he was spying on the whole thing.”

  
Natasha failed horribly to suppress a smirk. “Does the whole thing include…”

  
“Nope! Your resident psychopath fucked that up,” you replied as you motioned to yourself and stepped out of the elevator, brushing past the three of them.

  
Before anyone could say anything else you took off down the hallway, pausing only briefly when you saw Bucky seated on the common room couch and then continuing into the kitchen. You threw open the fridge as if it was the thing you were mad at, and not the super creep in the other room. Just as you hoped, the disgusting wine from the night before had a stopper in it and sat on the middle shelf. You dropped the heels that you still held in your hand, pulled the stopper off the bottle, and took a long swig. It was just as disgusting as you remembered but you powered through until the bottle was half empty.

  
“Bad night?” The voice behind you reignited the angry fire in the pit of your stomach.

  
“Fuck off, Bucky.”

  
“What happened?”

  
“Oh, you didn’t stick around long enough to find out?” You turned to him then, glaring daggers.

  
He blushed, scratching at the back of his neck like he always did when he was nervous.

  
“Listen, Doll, I’m sorry—“

  
“Don’t call me ‘Doll’.”

  
“I’m sorry, (Y/N) but—“

  
“I don’t want your excuses!”

  
“He just got out of prison!” Everything went silent and still as you tried to make sense of the words that had just been yelled at you. This gave Bucky more time to speak. “Marcus, he just got out a few months ago. Just some hacking stuff, nothing violent. But he was in the same prison as…as him. And I just realized that and…wasn’t thinkin’ right. I’m sorry.”

  
You stared at Bucky, mouth gaping, trying to keep your thoughts together. Marcus has been in the same prison that Simon was in? Did they meet? What the hell had he hacked that was so important it got him sent to prison? Why hadn’t he mentioned that at dinner? Did that have something to do with why his housemate moved out? You couldn’t find any words to speak, so instead you lifted the wine bottle to your lips and drank. Still chugging you closed the refrigerator and headed towards the common room. Heavily you threw yourself down onto the couch. Bucky followed, gingerly sitting down next to you like you were a bomb and any sudden movements might make you explode.

  
Honestly, the analogy wasn’t far off.

  
“Why can’t anything in my life just be normal?” You weren’t really asking Bucky. More so you were asking yourself. But he answered anyway.

  
“Been askin’ myself the same question for a while now.” Bucky gave a dry chuckle.

  
“And?”

  
“And what?”

 

“And what’d you come up with?”

 

Bucky sighed, reaching over and taking the nearly empty bottle from your hands. He finished off what was left before setting the bottle on the floor. It wouldn’t have any effect on him. His body would burn through it before he felt anything. He just didn’t want you to have it anymore. It didn’t matter, you could feel the buzz already.

  
“Normal isn’t real. Normal is just status quo, and status quo don’t mean a damn thing. Look at everyone in this place. Any of us seem normal to you?”

  
You shook your head. They weren’t. None of you were normal. Maybe that’s why the idea of moving out had been so scary. In a way, you fit in here. Out there, in the real world, you didn’t.

  
“Not even close.” You sighed leaning back and closing your eyes for a moment. In the background you could hear the sound of LA housewives yelling at each other. Bucky and his trash TV. Finally however, for the first time all day, you started to relax. You backed off that ledge you had been teetering on and just…relaxed.

  
“He doesn’t like you,” you don’t know why the words come out of your mouth, but they do.

  
“Huh?” You open your eyes and turn to see Bucky looking at you, confused. That damn puppy dog look on his face.

  
“Marcus. He spent all night gushing over the Avengers and when I brought you up he got…weird.” You explained.

  
Bucky’s confusion briefly turned to a look of sadness before he shrugged and his face went blank. “Can’t say I blame him. I don’t like myself much either.”

  
“It…irritated me. I think. That he didn’t like you. I just…went into defense mode.”  
Bucky gave a half-smile and playfully hit your arm with his flesh hand. “You don’t have to defend me, Kid.”

  
“Kid?”

  
“Yeah, that…felt weird as soon as it came out of my mouth. Just didn’t want to call you Doll again and it kinda just came out.”

  
You turned your body to face him now, realizing for the first time that he’d sat really close to you on the couch. When your left leg moved to curl up on the couch in front of you it brushed against his thigh. You didn’t move it, even after he glanced down and started to blush. You were still in a dress, most of your leg was exposed. It was probably just the hastily guzzled wine, but you didn’t care. You kind of liked the flustered look on his face.

  
“I was just mad, Bucky. You can call me Doll if you want.”

  
“Alright…Doll.”

  
Christ, when did his voice get so low and gravelly? And since when did that effect you like it did right now. Since when did it send a jolt of…something down between your thighs? Since when did the scruff on his jaw make you want to run your hand across it? And since when did the thought of his lips make you bite yours.

  
“Thanks for always looking out for me.”

  
“‘Course. Just want you to be okay.” His voice was so quiet now and it wasn’t until you spoke next that you realized he was just matching your volume.

 

“Bucky?”

  
“Yeah, Doll?”

  
“Can I…try something? Just to see if I can be…ya know? Normal?”

  
“‘Course. Anything.” Bucky said but didn’t nod, like he was scared moving would break whatever there was between the two of you in that moment.

  
You leaned forwards slowly, pressing your lips to Bucky’s. He returned the kiss, just as hesitantly. His flesh hand moved to rest on the exposed skin of your thigh and he rubbed his thumb against you gently. It made your breath hitch in your throat and your hands moved up to cup his face as you moved your lips against his more intently. When you parted them to softly tug his bottom lip between your teeth is when his hand moved up the outside of your leg until it was at your hip, and his metal hand joined it on the other side of your body to tug you into his lap as he leaned back towards the arm of the couch.

  
You straddled his lap, your hips beginning to rock back and forth in an attempt to ease the ache between your thighs. The feeling of his jeans scraping against the lace of your panties was the best thing you’d felt in forever. Better than the feeling of Marcus grinding against you earlier. You weren’t trapped underneath someone. You were on top, in control. Bucky’s hands remained on your hips but he didn’t tug or pull at you, just let you control what you wanted to do. And fuck, there was a lot you suddenly wanted to do.

  
He was hard in his jeans, and you shifted slightly to place your center right over him. He gasped, and his metal hand came up to cradle your cheek as his forehead rested against yours and he stopped kissing you in order to give a small gasp.

  
“Doll, if you keep doing that…” he groaned.

  
“Want you to,” you mumbled in return, eyes closed as you focused on the feeling building in the pit of your stomach. The way his hardness pressed so perfectly on your clit. “So fucking close.” You couldn’t stop the whimper that left you.

  
The sound of a throat clearing loudly behind the couch sent you scrambling backwards off of Bucky, pulling down your dress as you did so and looking behind you.

  
“Glad you two are getting along,” Tony scowled, “But…not in the common room.”

  
Your face burning red, you glanced at Bucky who looked equally like he wanted to die. What were you doing?

  
Muttering a quick apology— even though you were unsure which man you were apologizing to— you stood from the couch and ran from the room. 


	15. Chapter 15

Bucky didn’t show up to breakfast the next morning. He didn’t show up for the next week, actually. He didn’t walk you to work, or tuck you in when your nightmares drove you to the common room couch. If he passed you in the halls he wouldn’t look at you, and if he needed to take the elevator and you were on it, he would wait for it to drop you off and come back.

  
The feeling of shame and disgust with yourself was only intensified by the fact that the night of the incident was the first time in a long time that you didn’t have a bad dream, or a dream that bothered you through the day. Honestly, you couldn’t remember if you dreamed at all that night. But when you woke up the next morning you felt okay for once. Still embarrassed, but okay.

  
But as the week wore on, the nightmares came back full force, to the point that you decided it would be better just to not sleep at all. So, on Friday when you walked into the kitchen for breakfast, you were in absolutely no way mentally prepared for what was waiting for you.

  
“What are you doing here?” You demanded, sleep deprivation making your words harsher than they would have been otherwise.

  
The feeling of awkwardness was so thick you were practically suffocating, which let you know that everyone seated, wide-eyed at the breakfast table knew what was happening, but hadn’t said anything. Sitting in the seat that was normally saved for you was an incredibly uncomfortable looking Marcus.

  
“You didn’t tell her?” Sam asked Tony, his voice dangerously low which let you know that this was something you were supposed to be in the loop about.

  
“(Y/N),” Tony ignored Sam, rising from his seat at the table beside Marcus and stepping towards you. ”Say ‘hello’ to our new tech member.” Marcus gave a small wave which you only flared at.

  
“Tech member?” You asked.

  
“He’s going to help us out on missions. You’re aware of his…um…past?”

  
“The hacking and the prison sentence? Yeah.”

  
“He’s good. We need him. And…that’s that.” Tony gave a small nod of his head, obviously aware of the fact that your wall of anger wasn’t about to come down anytime soon.

  
“That’s that?” Your fists clenched at your side. “That’s that?! We’re all aware of who he was in prison with, right?”

  
“We’re aware,” it was Steve’s turn to speak up. He took a sip from the coffee mug in front of him and looked at you with irritating calm. “But we all talked, and this is what’s best for the team.”  
His words hit you like a ton of bricks.

Best for the team.

Of course it was best for the team. Someone capable of prison-worthy hacking had to be good for missions. Had to be good for the team. And you were not part of that team, which meant it didn’t matter if it wasn’t good for you. You didn’t matter.

You heard a chair scraping across the floor as you turned to leave the kitchen but didn’t stop to see who it was. Halfway through the common room a hand caught your wrist and forced you to turn around. You spun to glare at Marcus, snatching your arm away from him.

  
“Look, I’m sorry if this is awkward. Tony offered me a place on the team and an apartment and— my old place is too expensive to afford on my own. It just seemed too good to pass up. But if you’re not comfortable with me being here…”

  
Guilt hit you full force then. Why were you so angry? He hadn’t done anything to you except take you out for a nice dinner and then deal with you freaking out and storming off on him. He didn’t deserve this hostility. Still though, you couldn’t help the bite in your tone. He had, after all, been in prison with Simon. How did the team even know they could trust him? On that note…why was he being so cool about how weird you were acting. You were the one yelling and running around like a psycho, so why was Marcus the one apologi—

  
Suddenly the answer clicked in your brain. Your heart dropping into your stomach and the flame in your eyes died. You weren’t angry anymore, you were mortified.

  
“They told you, didn’t they? The team told you about my…stuff?”you asked, unable to hide the hurt in your voice.

  
Marcus gave you a sympathetic half-smile as he nodded his head. “I was hesitant to accept Tony’s offer, what with how…odd our date went, but he told me about your ex and it made sense. I’d have a hard time getting close to someone too after something like that. And I never even met him, I swear. Just kept to myself in prison, it was the best way to stay out of trouble.”

  
“Got it,” you nodded your head. “Thanks for understanding.” The words came out pinched off and tight before you turned on your heels and retreated to your room.

 

You were an absolute wreck of emotions and honestly, part of you missed how things had been two weeks ago. When you were angry, and brooding, and knew how to deal with everything going on in your head by being more angry and more brooding. Now, however…

  
You were hurt that the team hadn’t consulted you on this. You were devastated to be reminded that you’re just their resident charity case, not really part of their circle. You were confused and angry that Bucky was avoiding you. And you felt guilty about Marcus. Not just how you’d treated him, but because he was being so nice and understanding about how you’d acted on your date, and it wasn’t even just because of Simon that you hadn’t been able to go through with sleeping him. You felt guilty that something about Marcus felt wrong enough to send you into a full-blown panic attack, but doing the same thing with Bucky had felt like second nature.   
Marcus was a good, normal guy, and in typical you-fashion your mind wanted Bucky, the absolute train-wreck in desperate need of being put back together.

  
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You had yet to do blatantly, in the front of your mind admit it to yourself, but now you had. You wanted Bucky. You wanted Bucky really fucking badly, and that made you frustrated with yourself.

  
This was entirely too much emotion for you to deal with. So, you did the only logical thing: you called in to work and you went to sleep.

 

 

_“I just don’t get why, if you’re not lying to me, that it’s not working,” Simon paced his bedroom which made you nervous._

  
_“I stopped taking my birth control, Sy, I don’t know. I—“_

  
_“Are you fucking lying to me?!” He stopped suddenly, spinning to face you._

  
_The vicious look in his eye made you grasp your bottom lip between your teeth. You knew where this was going and you didn’t like it. You weren’t in the mood, and you didn’t like when he tried to have sex during one of his episodes. Despite the feeling of absolute fear emanating from you, Simon advanced on you where you sat on the edge of his bed. His hand found your throat, forcing you to lay back as he leaned the weight of his body on you._

  
_“Let’s talk. I don’t want to—“ you tried to protest his advanced but Simon gripped your throat harder, cutting off your words._

  
_“You love me, don’t you?” He asked. You gave as much as a nod as you could with his palm crushing your windpipe. “Then we’re gonna do this. Gonna start a family. You’re mine. Right?”_

  
_He released your throat then and after taking in a gasping breath you responded, “I’m yours.”_

  
_“Tell me you want this. Tell me you love me.”_

  
_“I want this. I want a family with you, I love you.” the words gushed past your lips, desperate to calm him._

  
_“Then let’s try again.”_

  
_You wanted to say no. Wanted him to skip straight to the part afterwards where he was calm, and dated, and would hold you until he was satisfied that it might have taken this time. That you might finally be the mother of his child. You ignored the part of the afterglow where you feared for what would happen if you didn’t get pregnant this time, and hoped simply for the part where he held you. The part where you weren’t yet so much of a screw up that you couldn’t make him happy in the most natural way. You just wanted him to love you. God, you hoped this time your body would let him love you._

 

Your eyes shot open to the sound of a pounding on your apartment door.

  
“F.R.I.D.A.Y., let me in!” Bucky’s voice demanded.

  
From the hallway you could hear the AI respond, “As I have already explained, Mister Barnes, I cannot let you in without express permission from Mister Stark or Miss (Y/L/N).”

  
“I don’t fucking care! You said her heart rate was elevated and I could fucking hear her. She’s having a nightmare. Let me in!”

  
“I cannot let you in without express permission from—“

  
“Then Tell Tony I said to get the fuck up here or I’m punching through the damn wall.”

  
“Delivering your message now.”

You could have gotten out of your bed, made your way to the living room and either let Bucky in or told him to go away, but your head was still swimming and the idea of having to make that kind of decision made you sick. The thought of even leaving your bed made you sick. Your brain was obviously trying to tell you something but was obviously reminding you what a fuck up you were. It reminded me you that no matter which one you chose— Marcus or Bucky— you would never make them happy. Just like with Simon, you would try as hard as you could and something would go wrong. You would mess everything up some how.

  
Of course, that was assuming either of them even wanted you. It was likely that Marcus didn’t after your disastrous date and after learning about your past. And it was was clear that Bucky didn’t, after how he had been acting for the past week. You were on your own. You weren’t on the team. Nobody wanted you. You were alone. So you stayed in your bed, covers pulled up to your chin and back against the headboard as you stared down at the foot of your bed. You didn’t even look up when three men came barreling into your bedroom. You sat there, and you stared, and for a few moments the men looked at you in silence.

  
“I don’t see any life-threatening injuries, do either of you?” Tony’s voice in your ears nearly made you cringe.

 

“You’re really gonna stand there and act like she looks okay?” Bucky’s voice met your ears next.

  
“Should we…call someone?” It was the sound of Marcus’s voice that made you finally look up.

  
“I’m fine,” you said far too fast with your eyes darting far too quickly between the three men for your words to be at all believable.

  
“I heard you having another nightmare,” Bucky said in explanation.

  
“What do you care?” You glared at the super soldier whose eyes immediately fell away from yours.

  
“Well,” Tony said in that irritatingly nonchalant tone of his, “this is awkward. Can I go back to showing Marcus our com system?”

  
“Why is he even here?” You asked.

  
“Tony was showing me the com system when the…uh…robot voice gave him the Wint— James’s message. I just tagged along. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  
It made your chest tighten a little. He wanted to make sure you were okay.

 

It was out of pity though. Just like everyone else he pitied you. You were still just a charity case, even to the guy just joining the Avengers team.

  
“I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Bucky found his voice again.

“I’m sure.”

  
“Good. Great. Marcus, shall we?” Tony asked.

  
With one last fleeting glance, Marcus followed Tony out of the room.

  
“You should leave too,” you said to Bucky once the other men were out of ear shot.   
“Doll, I’m sorry, about this week. I just—“

  
“Bucky.”

  
“Yeah?”

  
“I changed my mind. Please don’t call me ‘Doll’.”.

 


End file.
